Harry Potter and the Ties of BloodOld
by WolfMoon
Summary: .:Story Discontinued. Re-write in Progress and first chapter posted:.
1. Meetings

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter One: Meetings

Despite the fact that it was mid-summer, the night was dark and stormy, and the stars and moon completely obliterated by the low-hanging black storm clouds, making what would have been a reasonably well-lit night, since the moon was slowly waxing towards being full, a dark and fearful one.

The streets were almost completely deserted – most of the residence had long since gone to bed, the children grumbling about the wet, the adults remarking optimistically that at least it wasn't a drought like it had been the year before. Gardens that had a year before been brown with neglect and want for water were now flourishing, bright flowers of all colours bloomed and the grass was emerald green and glowing with health. In the garages, cars gleamed with newly applied polish and frequent washing, and the stifling heat of the year before was a scarcely recalled memory.

A light sprinkle of rain was misting the night air, and the tarmac on the road glittered like crystals in the warm yellow glow cast by the streetlights. Soon the rain would get heavier, the sprinkle almost a warning, telling anything that might be out still to get under cover and shelter from the deluge to come.

But those who were still out at this late hour saw no need to heed the warning.

A single young man walked down the empty streets, the misty rain covering him in a wealth of minute droplets, each of them glowing with all the colours of the rainbow as the street lamps shed their light upon him. He didn't notice the effect; however, his haunted green eyes were focused intently upon the tops of his sneakers, which were falling apart on his feet.

He walked with his shoulders hunched and his head down, messy black hair falling into his eyes, though he made no move to push it away. He just didn't care. He was wearing a t-shirt that had been Dudley's once, hanging around his too-thin figure, the fabric so thin that it mostly stuck to his skin, even though the rain was still very light. His jeans were the same, ripped in a couple of places, and belted around the waist so that they didn't fall down.

He didn't shiver, even though it was reasonably cool, and the rain made it even cooler. He didn't even seem to notice the temperature. All his thoughts were directed inward, there was no room for consideration of the physical world. Every night for the past two weeks since he had returned from Hogwarts, Harry had been out on the streets, wandering aimlessly around, because he needed to get out from Privet Drive and the Dursley's.

More so than any other year, Harry hated being forced to return to this place; Privet Drive seemed so alien to him. Always he had felt that it was, in some obscure way, right for him to come back here each year, even though every time he did he longed to be elsewhere. This year, however, even that obscure sense of belonging was gone, as if it had never been.

His heart ached with a peculiar sense of loss. He had always taken it for granted that he could come here. He knew that his relatives hated him, and he hated them in equal measure, but now that it was gone, he realised that he missed the feeling that he had a place here. That he had a place _anywhere_, for that matter.

That loss, however, was only minimal, a small grief added to greater heartache. His godfather was gone. Sirius Black, the only man who Harry felt he could have regarded as his _true_ family was dead. And now Harry really was alone. Green eyes filled with tears, but they did not fall, somehow Harry managed to hold them in check, as he had every night since he had returned here.

His heart felt empty, the place where Sirius had once been was a gaping hole, and all of Harry's positive emotions seemed to be completely nonexistent. He tried to lock his memories and emotions away, but every time he thought that he had succeeded, they slipped around whatever he was using to block them, extending tendrils of pain through his mind and heart.

As well as grief, there was anger. He didn't belong here, so why was he still here? Because no one would let him leave. Every message that he had sent to the Order had been requesting that he be allowed to leave Privet Drive, and every time he received the same reply: _It's not safe for you to be anywhere else._

Harry sighed heavily. He wasn't sure where he wanted to be, anyway. While he didn't belong here, he didn't know where he did. He didn't want to stay with the Weasley's; watching them, with their close family relationship would have been like twisting a knife in his gut. Besides, Ron didn't understand, couldn't understand, what Harry was going through. Ron had always had someone there for him; he was unable to process the thought that there could be a time when there _wasn't_ anyone for you.

And that was what Harry was going through. He'd thought that there was no one, had pretty much accepted that, but then Sirius had appeared, and suddenly there _had_ been someone … and now that someone was gone, leaving Harry alone again. But it was worse now, because he knew what it was like to have someone.

He would not return to Grimmauld Place. To be in the place that had been Sirius's prison would have been worse than being with the Weasley's. Nor could he go to Hermione – she didn't understand him either. She seemed as incapable as Ron at comprehending what Harry was feeling. But she was worse, because she tried to understand, tried to talk to him about it, and Harry didn't want to talk, at least not unless it was with someone who had lost, as he had lost. And he didn't know anyone like that.

Except Remus.

Remus. Sirius's best friend, the only one of the Marauders still alive, someone that Harry might have been able to talk to … but Remus had shut out the world, retreating deep into himself to grieve, and there was no place in the werewolf's sorrow for anyone else, not even Harry. He had been given leave from the Order, and had returned to his home, backing out of the war until such a time as he was ready to attend to it again – although that time would be a long way off, by all reports.

And so Harry was left right back where he had started. He wished that school would start again. Then, at least, he would have something to take his mind off things. Ron and Hermione would be there, but whenever he needed to escape from them, it would be easy enough to slip away and be alone.

The two weeks that the holidays had so far lasted for had seemed like an eternity. The Dursley's tried to be nice to him, but they were too used to treating him like dirt, and he was too upset to respond with anything other than a sullen silence. Aunt Petunia called him down for meal times, but on those occasions that he left his only remaining sanctuary he played with his food and ate little. They let him off his chores, so he locked himself in his room and didn't come out. They bought him a new bedspread, a warmer one, because the summer was colder than usual, which he had accepted without words.

Dudley offered to let Harry play his computer, once, but Harry turned the offer down. Uncle Vernon called him whenever the news started, but Harry didn't want to hear about the latest suspicious disappearances. He didn't need to be reminded of the war that had torn the only parental figure he had left away from him.

And at night, he wandered the streets, alone with his thoughts and the foul weather. The Dursley's didn't know of his late night wanders. Each morning, just before dawn, he returned, had a shower and went to his room, which was where they found him every morning. He didn't leave the house until they'd gone to sleep. He gave them no reason to suggest that he was doing anything suspicious.

He knew that the Order didn't like his night time wanders, because they weren't _safe_, but he refused to give them up, and eventually they had stopped asking him to. But they had good reason to fear for his safety – they were in troubled times now, and one never knew where Voldemort would next strike.

It was Harry, after all, who Voldemort most wanted dead, but at the same time, it was Harry who he was afraid to directly attack – Voldemort didn't know the Prophecy, he was sure that if he tried to kill Harry again, then the spell would backfire as it had fifteen years ago, and send Voldemort back to his half-life. But just because he wouldn't kill Harry didn't make the boy safe. If Voldemort could _capture_ Harry, then the boy could be no danger to him.

But Harry didn't care. He would not be imprisoned in a house he hated, as his godfather had been, driven mad by being forced to stay somewhere that he hated. He would not let that happen to him. _He wouldn't let it happen._ He could let himself be taken by the madness that had eventually taken Sirius; the need to escape that was so great that one would take death over being imprisoned.

He did not hear the soft scuff of a foot against the path as a figure stepped out in front of him, didn't see the man who suddenly stood before him, just continued walking, placing one foot in front of the other, a monotonous movement that required no thought, leaving his mind free for other contemplations.

He did, however, notice when a cold, slimy voice spoke a soft incantation and ropes appeared from midair to bind him, ankles and wrists, and a gag appeared magically, keeping him from crying out in shock. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet, and he looked up, his damp hair still falling in his eyes, obscuring his glasses, making it hard to see the person in from him.

It was male, Harry could tell from the voice, but it was impossible to tell from the appearance of the figure before him. Tall, wearing a fairly shapeless black robe and a silver mask covering his face, one hand still raised, clutching a wand. A triumphant gleam shining through the eye sockets.

_Death Eater_.

---

Rodolfus Lestrange smirked beneath his mask. So, this was the oh-so-famous Harry Potter, the one who had someone managed to survive confrontations with the Dark Lord time and again and had, through what could only be luck, managed to thwart several of the Lord's plans to return to life. The other Death Eaters spoke of the boy in hushed voices, when they spoke of him at all, in case the Lord took exception to them speaking of his enemy. They were wary of him, convinced that he was more powerful than he was.

The boy was supposed to be cunning, always somehow managing to escape the traps of the Death Eaters, even those the Dark Lord himself set, but now Rodolfus realised that there was no cunning about him, it was only luck, the right things happening at the right time, in the boy's favour.

He looked into the eyes of his Lord's greatest foe, and was surprised that he did not find fear looking back at him. The boy looked up at him, messy hair falling in front of his eyes and obscuring his vision, but in his eyes there was not fear, or hopelessness.

There was a look of haunted grief, of anger, and a certain trace of disgust about him. As if Rodolfus was somehow lesser than this mere child, whom he had subdued so easily.

That possible inclination made him feel anger; he was a Death Eater! One of those chosen to serve the Dark Lord, one the chosen few who would be given power beyond their dreams when the Dark Lord triumphed over this puny society. But the anger was somehow dimmed, not as strong as it might once have been. Rodolfus was aware of that difference in his emotions, and he knew its cause: Azkaban. The constant company of Dementors had worn away his emotions until such a time as he was unable to summon much more than irritation, when once unrivalled rage would flow through his veins.

And it was all Potter's fault. Had the stupid child not somehow managed to be luckier than any other man on the planet and survive the Dark Lord, Rodolfus would have never been sent to Azkaban, in fact, he would probably be sitting in a seat of power at Lord Voldemort's right hand, while all around them wizards and Muggles alike cowered in their own fear.

"Well, Potter," he murmured, "You weren't so hard to capture has I had been led to believe … didn't you know that wandering the streets at night all alone isn't a good idea for children?" He and his wife Bellatrix were greatly alike, he was no longer sure whether he had rubbed off on her, or whether she had rubbed off on him. They just were, these days, and he could not remember ever being any different. That was just how things were.

The expression on Potter's face didn't change, which made him angry – it always made him angry when they acted as like he had said nothing, or what he said didn't scare them at all, or get to them in any way. "You might have had the others running around in circles, but it seems that your luck has deserted you now. The Master will reward me greatly for this service to him, and on the first night of the hunt too … it is I who will bring him his heart's desire, not any of his other servants. He knows my loyalty, but I will prove it over again by delivering _you_ to his fortress."

He was watching the boy's face still, and even the knowledge that he was being taken to the Master didn't seem to faze him. His face remained the same, that same disgust as he looked upon the Death Eater before him, and that made Rodolfus even angrier – how _dare_ this puny child assume that he was somehow higher than one of the Dark Lord's own Inner Circle, one of those who would lead the Wizarding world in its purification?

"But we don't have to go straight to him, no … in fact, he would be disappointed if I didn't take the chance to familiarise you with some of his favourite games. My Lord doesn't like it when his guests don't know all the rules, and it will be a _pleasure_ to teach them to you."

---

Somehow Harry did not feel afraid, even though he knew what sort of 'games' the Death Eater was talking about – all of the Dark Lord's games seemed to revolve around torture, pain, and the inevitable death. He did not think he knew this Death Eater, but then, that was unsurprising, considering that they were his enemies. There must be many that he had never had the misfortune of meeting in person.

The Death Eater raised his wand, and began to speak, "_Cru-_" but he was never given the opportunity to finish, because a third being, also out on this foul night, leapt from his hiding place in a nearby tree, one powerful leap allowing him to clear the branches, and the fence, and land lightly and with hardly a sound, behind the Death Eater.

Rodolfus Lestrange never had the time to turn and see what this interruption was, as two hands shot up, one coming beneath in chin, the other on his forehead, and, with a single upward and backward jerk, snapped his neck, killing him instantly. Had he been able to speak, or make any sound at all, Harry would have gasped in relief and thankfulness … but his night was not yet at an end.

The man behind the Death Eater was by some means still holding the dead weight of the body upright. Without looking at Harry, he bared his teeth, and Harry watched with a morbid fascination as his rescuer's canines lengthened, and he pulled the cloak away from the Death Eaters neck, biting down delicately.

His rescuer was a _vampire_.

He wasn't even sure that the thing was his rescuer anymore, maybe it had just seen the opportunity for a meal and taken it … or maybe it had seen the opportunity for _two _meals. He couldn't move, couldn't budge the restraints that the Death Eater had placed on him. He had tried that, when they first seized him, but he tried again while the vampire fed, to no avail.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the vampire released the body of the Death Eater, which crumpled to the ground, and looked straight at Harry. If he had been able to make a sound, Harry would have cried out in shock, for the vampire's eyes, like a cat's, were reflective, and they shone in the light of the street lamps.

Canines shortened, looking once more like normal teeth, and the vampire stepped over the dead body, now drained of blood, striding stepped gracefully towards Harry. He moved with flawless elegance, and Harry took in his appearance, a slim body, but a strong one, the vampire looked to be only in his twenties. His eyes, when they weren't reflecting the light, were a silvery blue, and his lips curved in an almost _gentle_ smile.

Harry's eyes explored the vampires face, young, completely unblemished. Long black hair fell messily around his face, which was thin and all too familiar. Rather than going for his neck, the vampire reached behind Harry's head, and Harry was sure that his neck was about to be snapped just like that of the Death Eater before him.

The vampire, however, seemed to have other ideas, and instead of killing Harry where he stood, he undid the gag and let it fall to the ground at their feet. For a moment, they stood staring into one another eyes, while Harry's mind screamed at him to do something – but the vampire had only given Harry back the ability to make sounds, his wrists and ankles were still bound.

But something about the vampire made Harry feel not afraid, but rather intrigued … the familiarity of the face bugged him, and, because if his suspicions were true, he needed to know, and if they weren't, well, he was no worse off than he had been before. So he spoke, a single, confused syllable that hung in the air between them.

"_Dad_?"

* * *

Please review!

This chapter was last edited on Saturday the 7th of January 2006.

WolfMoon


	2. Offers

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Two: Offers 

For a moment, the word hung between them, palpable in the stormy night air, then the vampire gave a soft chuckle and stepped behind him, undoing the bindings on his wrists, then his ankles, then speaking, "No, Harry, I'm not James Potter–though I am _a_ Potter. Resemblance has always been strong in our family after all."

Now free, Harry wondered why he didn't run, but the vampire's words aroused far too much curiosity for that, besides, he was feeling reckless. _He_ didn't have all that much left to lose, after all. A relative? One that he hadn't heard of? Who knew where this could lead … somewhere better than where he was now, if he had any luck at all. "We're related? But you're a vampire …"

"Yes, I am that, as I think I demonstrated quite adequately with that Death Eater," the man said with a faint smile. "My name is Charles, Charles Potter."

"But I haven't heard of any my relatives still being alive … let alone of them being vampires," Harry said in confusion.

"That's because no one knows me as Charles Potter – as far as more people are concerned, Charles is dead. I faked my own death rather than let my family live with the knowledge that their husband, father, son was a vampire. It was better that way. For centuries now I have watched over those of my blood and kept them safe from as much as harm as I could turn aside," the vampire told him, with that same gentle smile on his face.

"But … I've always been led to believe that vampires are blood sucking monsters … so why would you care?" Harry asked – perhaps it wasn't the most intelligent question, because it might anger the vampire, but he needed to know. And he figured that if Charles _was_ a blood sucking monster, he would be dead soon enough anyway. He wasn't even sure that this was would be a bad thing. At least he would be able to see Sirius again.

Charles shook his head sadly. "No, we aren't. Most Muggles think we are, and many wizards are uncomfortable with us, since we _do_ drink human blood, because we need it to survive. But most of the time we don't kill, just take enough to be going on with and move on. Muggles, well, people in general really, are inclined to fear that which they don't understand. And no one who is not one of us has ever really understood our kind."

"Oh …" Harry said, and then paused for a moment before saying, "Sorry."

"It is a common misconception," Charles said delicately. "Of course, we do kill on occasion, like now. But he was going to hurt you, and I couldn't allow that – besides, Death Eaters _are_ monsters, and thus they cannot be allowed to live, if one is going to drink from them."

Harry nodded. He didn't see anything wrong with killing Death Eaters. That was a _good _thing, as far as he was concerned. "So you helped me because I'm of your family?" he asked, to make sure that he had things right.

"Yes," Charles nodded. "You are the last, and I will not let my line die out. I've been working far too hard, for too long to keep you lot alive."

"You said that you'd been helping us for centuries," Harry said, "But you don't look that much older than me."

"I'm sure you've heard stories of vampires being immortal," Charles remarked, "I have been alive for almost one thousand years. While I'm not immortal, completely, I will live long enough for people to assume me to be so. Those Muggles who are turned into vampires might last for one thousand years, but they won't live much longer than that. But I was a wizard before I was turned, and that makes all the difference. I will live four or five thousand years, provided no one actually kills me, which someone probably will."

"Five _thousand_ years?" Harry whispered. "Wow." He was impressed.

"You try living for a couple of centuries, and you'll get bored pretty quickly," Charles remarked. "Very few vampires live to one thousand, Muggle or wizard, it makes little difference. You get bored, you get tired, you get complacent … you make a mistake, or you go looking for the end of a life that has gone on far too long. Those of us who live longer than that usually find tasks to keep us occupied, and mine was to take care of my family."

Harry nodded. He was awed by the age of the vampire before him, but he wasn't in the least bit scared of him. If death was coming for him, then it was coming. There was no way of avoiding death entirely, and he would rather die at this vampire's hands than at a Death Eaters. At least death would be quick, clean and hopefully relatively painless. But he did not think that Charles would kill him, somehow.

Charles scowled faintly suddenly, "On that note … I've been watching you since you arrived back here with this family of yours, and I can't say I like what I see. You are the heir to one of the most powerful families alive, you are one of the most famous people in the Magical world, and you are being treated like dirt by Muggles who are little more than that themselves."

"It's not like I can do anything about it," Harry muttered. "I have to stay with blood family; otherwise I'm not protected from Voldemort. Or at least, that's what the Order tells me. I'm not allowed to leave, and even if I did, I don't really have anywhere else that I want to go. Nowhere that isn't full of memories or people I'd rather not have to face."

"Memories of your godfather," Charles nodded, and Harry looked at him in surprise. "I do keep tabs on what goes on, you know. Nothing much happens without me finding out about it sooner or later. Usually sooner." Harry smiled a little. "But I think I have an alternative for you – you can come and live with _me_. I'm your relative by blood, after a fashion, and there aren't all that many people who would be able to find where I live, let alone want to challenge a fully fledged wizard-vampire to get to you."

Charles had started walking down the road, and Harry had followed him without much thought. At the vampire's words, however, he came to a dead stop again. A _vampire_ had just asked him to go and live with it … Harry wasn't sure if it was a joke or not … and he didn't know which he wanted it to be. Hadn't he been praying for an escape, this summer more than ever? Hadn't he been wishing, all his life, for a relative to turn up and steal him away from the mundane life in Little Whinging?

Although he had never imagined the form in which this might take place. The first to try it had been Sirius, who Harry had believed to be a convicted murderer, and which couldn't be further from the truth, but Harry had wished that he could have lived with his godfather, although it had never come to pass … and now he received the same invitation from a vampire.

Charles looked back when he saw that Harry had stopped, and walked back the couple of paces necessary to place himself in front of Harry again. "I know that it must seem abrupt to you, Harry, but I have been watching you for almost a month, and it has been gradually dawning on me that there are few other alternatives. I promise you, you could not be safer than if you are with me. I would _never_ harm one of my blood, you least of all. You have _nothing_ to fear from me."

"I don't know," Harry hesitated, looking anywhere but into the vampire's face, unwilling to see the hope that he knew would be there, or let Charles see that the hope was mirrored in Harry's own eyes. To have an escape, any escape, would be a welcome relief … but this escape? It tried the boundaries, even for Harry. He seized on a more reasonable excuse than 'you're a vampire and I don't trust you', and spoke again.

"I mean, I don't know you at all. You've just appeared out of nowhere, it seems, told me this story about my long-lost however-many-greats grandfather, and then ask me to come and live with you. It's all very sudden, and I don't know what to say. I believe what you've told me," he added hastily, as he saw Charles open his mouth to speak again, "I see no reason for you to lie to me. If you were going to kill me, I would be dead already … but it's still very sudden."

"Of course, I understand. As I said, I have been watching for so long that I feel as if I know you, even though I do not really, and you certainly do not know me." Charles sighed. "So perhaps we could reach a compromise? I come home with you to the Muggles. I won't let them see me, or that person who is supposed to be guarding you either. We get to know each other, and then, in a little while, you can make your decision, and we shall act upon it."

Harry still hesitated. Inviting a vampire home didn't seem like a particularly good idea to him. But then, he was being offered a chance to escape from the Dursleys, and that was always a good thing. How could he turn that down? He couldn't, really. And this was a long shot better than going straight back to wherever Charles's home was. For a moment, he continued to think about it, in silence, while they walked together. The rain got heavier, falling in proper drops, rather than mist, but he didn't really notice. Finally he said, "Sounds good to me," and smiled a little at Charles.

Charles smiled back. "Me too," he said, and Harry knew that he was being completely sincere. He was tempted to just accept the offer and get out of here, but he wanted to get to know the vampire before he did anything. At least then he could not be accused of acting recklessly in the future.

"Promise you won't hurt any of my family?" he added as a thought occurred to him, suddenly wary.

"Of course," Charles said. "I drained that Death Eater for a reason you know. I have taken enough blood to last me a week or so, then I will need to feed again."

"Do you eat other stuff?" Harry asked curiously, suddenly wanting to know more about vampires. They were supposed to have covered them in first year at Hogwarts, but that had never happened with Quirrell as the teacher. He knew only what little he had heard from his friends, which wasn't particularly factual, just a gathering of stories designed to scare the listener.

"Yes," Charles replied. "We need blood to keep our bodies going and our blood fresh, otherwise we'll die within a month or so, and generally we'd need to feed once a day, to get enough, but if you drain someone completely, that's enough blood to last a week or so. We also need to eat normal, human food to keep our bodies strong. We still hunger for 'normal' foods, and need them to keep our bodies strong and healthy."

Harry nodded. Made sense, he supposed. "Can you go out in the day time?" he asked, since most legends said they couldn't.

"Sort of," Charles replied, "It is possible for a vampire to go out in daylight, but it is not a common practice amongst us. The sunlight hurts our eyes, which are designed to see at night time, and our skin burns very easily. We begin to go red after five minutes or so, and start to blister after about fifteen minutes in the sunlight. It is very unpleasant. It's also far easier to hunt under the cover of darkness."

"So, if you wear sunglasses and sun cream, and long clothes, and don't try to hunt, then you're fine?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Charles nodded, "But still, we find it easier to cut ourselves off from the world of day and dedicate ourselves to the night, it makes our loss easier to deal with if we don't taunt ourselves with the inevitable. Although the occasional wander through the day is a pleasant change, I must admit."

Then they were standing in front of Number Four Privet Drive – Harry hardly remembered the walk that brought them here from where he had been attacked, several blocks away. It seemed surprising that such a distance could be covered in what seemed like such a short time, but he supposed that he had been a little preoccupied. Harry suddenly remembered something, "That Death Eater – what if the Muggles find him?" he asked, "They'll freak out …"

"They won't," Charles said grimly. "The Death Eater killed your watcher before he did anything else, and someone will be coming to replace him soon enough. When they discover him missing, they'll search, and find the Death Eater – they'll know what it means, finding him with his blood completely removed, and they'll take the body away, then they'll come to check on you and make sure you're safe. I'll hide when they show, and you just have to tell them that you never saw a thing. They'll assume that I found the Death Eater on his own, before he got to you, and that'll be the end of that … although they'll warn you not to go out at night, because it isn't safe with a vampire around."

Harry jerked as if he had been touched with a burning coal when he heard that the Order's watcher had been killed looking out for him, and he felt as if the killing would never end. It was his fault, it was all his fault, and if he hadn't been here, who could say how many people would still be alive? He hated it, hated that he was the centre of this cyclone of death and despair … and there was nothing he could do.

He wondered who the watcher had been, and felt guilty – someone had died because of him, and he didn't even know if it had been a man or a woman, someone he knew or a complete stranger … the Death Eater had probably never known that information either, but that hadn't stopped the man from killing whoever it had been. Well, he would find out who it was soon enough, and then perhaps the guilt would ease a little.

He felt even guiltier when he released that he was feeling relieved because he knew that the watcher could not have been Remus. Remus was possibly the one person that Harry _couldn't_ lose. It would be awful if any of his other friends in the Order died, but he didn't know if he would have been able to cope if it had been Remus who had died that night.

He shook his head, trying to drive those thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to think about death, he had spent far too long contemplating that eventuality, for himself and for all of the people that he knew. Too often in the last three weeks had he found himself wondering how he would feel if Ron died, or if Tonks, or any of the others. "So wizards fear you as much as Muggles do?" Harry asked, as much to distract himself as anything else. "I haven't heard much about Vampires, only that the people I've spoken with have all agreed that your kind is something to fear."

"They don't trust us, because they don't understand us," Charles corrected calmly. "The fact that we drink blood is enough to scare them, even though we don't usually kill, but you only ever seem to hear about the vampire attacks where someone died, because otherwise most don't know that they've been attacked."

Harry opened the front door and they headed inside and up to Harry's room, where he gathered clothes and got ready for the shower he usually had when he returned home, and the vampire inspected his surroundings. Somehow Charles didn't seem to be even slightly damp, despite the rain.

Soaked to the skin, and still a little shocked from the occurrences of the night, despite the fact that he had mostly accepted what had happened, Harry clung to his routine. He didn't even think to tell Charles what was going on, and Charles didn't question it. Harry supposed, when he thought about it as he turned on the shower taps, sending a cascade of hot water over his chilled body, that Charles knew his routine from watching him over the past weeks.

Outside, the heavens opened and released a torrent of water, as if all they had been waiting for was for those still living to make their way inside. The raindrops roared as they hit the rooftop, and Harry was willing to bet that the Dursley's wouldn't even be able to hear his shower over that sound.

When he returned after his shower, Harry found Moody standing outside the door to his room, raising his hand to knock. The rain must have covered the noise of his Aparating in as well. "Potter!" he said, in surprised relief, and Harry gave the slightest nod, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now. Act surprised that Moody was here, would probably be a good bet.

"Has something happened?" Harry asked, forehead creasing a little as if he was really confused by what was going on. "Why are you here?"

"We thought you might have been dead…" Moody said, not even seeming to have heard what Harry had said.

"What?" Harry yelped, "Why? What happened?"

"You're usually out wandering the streets this time of night," Moody said disapprovingly, "And it seems that our fears were justified – your watcher tonight was killed. It's not safe for you to be outside any more. We searched, and found the Death Eater whose wand delivered the curse. He was found dead, sucked dry of his blood. Not only was a Death Eater out tonight, there was a vampire there too."

Harry let his facial expression change to one of fear and grief. The latter was not hard to summon, because he _was_ grieved that someone had died for him. He wondered, then, if he should spill the beans and tell Moody that Charles was here, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he instead said, "Who? Who died?"

"I don't believe you ever met him," Moody said, "He joined us after Christmas last year." Harry nodded in barely concealed relief. No one he knew, that had to be better than one of his friends or someone he knew. Immediately, he felt worse about the occurrences. The relief that he felt in itself was condemning.

"And a _vampire_?" he added, trying to play shocked and cover all of the bases so that Moody didn't think that he was being suspicious. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to convince Moody of all people that he knew nothing. Moody was perhaps the most suspicious person Harry had ever met in his life.

"Yes," Moody said. "I'm surprised that it killed, because you don't usually find them killing people … so, we're going to ask you to stay _here_ and not go wandering _anywhere_ at all, until we're sure that the vampire has gone and there aren't any Death Eaters … frankly, I'm amazed you got back alive. Vampire must have attacked while the Death Eater was still following you, and not seen you."

"Must have," Harry said faintly, relieved because that was exactly what Charles had said they would assume.

"Remember boy, _constant vigilance. _If you see danger everywhere, you'll be prepared, and being prepared will mean the difference between life and death." Moody nodded firmly, before Aparating abruptly away, and Harry went into his room. Charles was nowhere to be seen.

"He's gone," Harry remarked, and for a moment, there was no movement in the room, then there was a knock on the window and Charles's head appeared there. Harry hurried over and opened it, and the vampire climbed agilely through. "It was just like you said, he assumed that you'd attacked the Death Eater without seeing me, and before the Death Eater had found me." Harry told Charles, who nodded thoughtfully. Harry yawned, surprising himself. He hadn't been sleeping much, hadn't seen much point to in the last weeks, he only woke up after a few restless hours from nightmares.

"You should sleep," Charles remarked.

"I don't want to face the nightmares," Harry said quietly, and was surprised at himself because he didn't talk about his nightmares to anyone. They had not involved Voldemort, only Sirius and Sirius's death, so he had seen no reason to speak to the Order about them. While his scar often prickled when he woke up, or even burned sometimes, he didn't think that it was very important. His scar always hurt a bit, Voldemort was constantly active these days, whether that was out in the open or out of sight of the magical world. Charles looked at him for a moment, and nodded.

"I suppose I know how you feel. I have nightmares too," he said softly. "But you can't let them have power over you. You have to face them, and tell them that you aren't afraid, and then they will leave you alone. You need to sleep; your body cannot survive without it. Dreams are only dreams, and they cannot truly harm you."

Harry hesitated. He didn't want to face the nightmares that would come if he slept, but he also didn't really want to sleep while there was a vampire in the room with him. He thought he could trust Charles, but it went against every instinct he had to sleep while there was a blood drinking being nearby … even if said being was already apparently satiated.

He yawned again, and found himself nodding, going over to lie on his bed. Charles dragged the chair from Harry's desk over and sat down beside his head, reaching out a delicate hand and stroking the damp hair back from Harry's forehead, taking off his glasses and putting them on the bedside.

The last thing Harry remembered before his eyes drifted close and a deep, peaceful sleep overtook him was the soft touch of Charles stroking his hair back, and a song seeming to croon very softly in his ears.

---

When Harry woke up again it was late in the morning and Charles was gone. Harry wondered if the man had been a dream that he had the night before, since he hadn't slept for so long … anything was possible, wasn't it? He blinked bleary eyes and sat up, reaching for his glasses and putting them on, letting the room swim suddenly into focus.

He got up, and looked around his room, as if searching for a sign that the night before had been real. His room was messy–clothes and the contents of trunk spilled out across the floor from when he'd been looking for something, but hadn't had the inclination to pack everything up again, the desk was completely empty, because he hadn't gone near his summer homework …

He lent back in his bed, feeling at once disappointed and relieved. Relieved because if Charles had only been a dream from the night before, then he wouldn't have to think about the life-changing decision to leave the Dursley's, but disappointed because he had lost the chance to do just that.

He shook his head faintly. Why could he never make up his mind what he wanted? It was always like this, so many things that he wanted that all seemed at opposites to each other.

Before he could continue this line of thought, the door was pushed open and Charles came into the room, bearing a tray of food and humming softly under his breath. "Ah," he said, smiling at Harry when he saw the boy sitting up, his glasses having just been hastily shoved onto his nose, "You're awake. Breakfast?"

Harry was so surprised that Charles was actually real, that he simply nodded his head. He suddenly found himself feeling happier than he remembered being in weeks, even months. While both the disappointment and relief could be related to this situation, Harry decided that whatever else he felt, he was happy that Charles had come into his life, whatever the outcome might be. He felt curiously attracted to the vampire.

Charles pushed the tray into Harry's lap, and Harry looked up at him, "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

"I won't feel hungry for human food until later this afternoon. I still feel rather bloated from the Death Eater," Charles replied. "And before you ask, your relatives didn't see me, nor did the Ministry watcher. Magic turned _his_ eyes away, and your relatives are all out and about. Your uncle has gone to work and your aunt his driving your cousin somewhere and will be spending some time gossiping when she gets there."

Harry smiled a little at that, and was surprised to find himself hungry enough to dig into the small meal that Charles had brought him. "There wasn't much food left," Charles said apologetically, "I expect your aunt will be doing some shopping before she comes home as well."

"That's ok," Harry said, "It's more than I usually eat for breakfast."

"I noticed that," Charles said disapprovingly, "You won't get anywhere by starving yourself away you know. It won't bring your godfather back – believe me, I know. I tried it myself, I tried not to drink blood for weeks on end because I thought that it would make things go away … but it never did. It only made me weak, sick and thoroughly miserable."

"I'm not _trying_ to starve myself," Harry protested, suddenly worried that Charles would think less of him for not eating much. "I just don't feel hungry. I guess it's got a lot to do with Sirius being … you know … but it's also to do with the fact that I'm used to not eating as much when I'm here, I guess my body just expects it these days."

Charles looked very annoyed at those words, but he said nothing else about it, so Harry let it lie as well. He certainly had little wish to discuss his life at Privet Drive. He was more than happy to forget about the things that he had endured here in the past. "How are you going to explain your presence to the Order?"

"Most of the time, I won't be seen by them. I doubt that we'll be leaving the house much, somehow. But when we do need to leave, then we can go at night. I'll just tell the Order that I'm an old resident of the area who moved away and that when I came back, I wanted to check up on you, and invited you out for dinner or something like that."

Harry smiled. "Fairly simple story," he admitted, and Charles nodded.

"It's always best to keep a story simple," he replied, "That way you can't forget the details. The more complex the story, the more things you can forget. Also, you should always base a story as much on fact as possible, otherwise you'll tie yourself up in your own lies."

Harry smiled a little at that, "Good advice," he said. "I don't usually think about stories or anything like that … I don't get in trouble all that often … well, not when I can't avoid it, and when I _do_ get in trouble, the true story is usually the best, because it's usually something that someone needs to know."

"If you'd been in Slytherin like I was, you'd probably have a very different story to that," Charles smirked, "Slytherin tends to do that to people."

Harry gaped at him in surprise, "You were in _Slytherin_? But you seem to … well, _nice_ for that."

"I'm not sure where people have got this idea that being in Slytherin makes one a bad person," Charles sighed, "It seems a lot like being a vampire, really. I know that there a lot of pureblood snobs in Slytherin, and I've heard tell that you've got some enemies in your year from the house, but we aren't _all_ bad."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, looking down.

Charles only smiled, "I'm used to dealing the prejudice," he replied, "I don't like it, at least when it's directed at me. People have a lot of things to be prejudiced about when it comes to me, unfortunately."

"I'll try not to be," Harry promised, and Charles smiled.

---

That week passed very quickly for Harry. The Dursley's, used to hardly ever seeing Harry, didn't view his behaviour has odd, and instead of wandering around at night-time, Harry only went out in the day, but even then he didn't go out much, acting as if he had taken the Order's warning to heart.

Every day, and most nights, he learnt even more about Charles, who proved to be a very interesting character with more knowledge than Harry could begin to contemplate. He had the feeling that Hermione would literally kill to get her hands on some of the knowledge that the vampire possessed.

He quickly discovered that although Charles had a very proper and polite method of speaking–something that he had apparently picked up during a period of time that he had spent in the English Court and never dropped–he was a fun-loving, cheerful, and very lively man.

One of things that Harry learned was that Hogwarts had been built approximately twelve hundred years ago, rather than the one thousand that the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts usually referred to, and that Charles had met Lady Rowena, and Lady Helga during his own time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Godric Gryffindor had, by that time, passed away, his very active lifestyle eventually leading to his death at an early age, when he died of a battle wound.

He learnt as well that Charles had been the oldest son of the third generation of Potters, and was Harry's many times over great grandfather. Charles had had three children before he had been turned into a vampire, despite the fact that he had only been twenty seven at that point in time.

"Times change," Charles pointed out when Harry expressed surprise over this fact. "In my day and age, it was usual for couples to be married at thirteen, and having children soon after. Wizards only lived to about one hundred years of age; lifetimes have grown longer on average since then. Even with our studies at school my wife and I had our first child when we were fifteen." Charles also spoke fluently in all of the major, and some of the minor, languages of the world, because, as he said, "When you have as long a life as I do before me, you need to do _something_ to keep yourself busy. Learning seems as good as anything else, when I'm not protecting my family."

Harry had also discovered that a vampire's appearance did change slightly over time. To a certain extent, vampires could chose how old they appeared to be, although that only went to point of them being able to stop themselves aging, and then age again should they wish to. They could not de-age themselves, should they wish to be younger.

Apart from that change in appearance, vampire features also altered over time. Harry had seen a statue of Salazar Slytherin, presumably constructed about two hundred years before Charles was born, and it had borne more than a passing resemblance to a monkey. The reason that Charles did not have a more ape-like appearance was that as the appearance of man changed, so did the appearance of vampires, except that they changed while they were still alive, so slightly that often they often didn't notice themselves.

Harry also learned a lot about vampires and their powers in general. He learned that there was a _very_ distinctive difference between a Muggle who was turned into a vampire, and a wizard. A wizard could live up to around three hundred – that, for them, was like a Muggle living to one hundred or over. Not everyone did, but some lucky ones managed it. A wizard turned vampire might live up to five thousand years, at the very maximum, but, Charles said, very few vampires actually survived until they were _one_ thousand, let alone five.

Muggle turned vampires might live to around one thousand, or fifteen hundred naturally, a lot less than a wizard-vampire, but, like their wizard counterparts, also usually didn't live this long. Charles was one of the oldest vampires alive. The abilities, too, were slightly differed. When you became a vampire, your body became stronger, if there was anything physically wrong with you, like if you had a missing limb, or a heart condition, becoming a vampire would heal that. You could move faster, and see in the dark – that was the reflective eyes were for, Charles explained – and any vampire gained some control over blood magic.

Charles did not explain blood magic to Harry, saying that only vampires could learn much about it, or use it very well, although some wizards did learn a very limited amount. In Charles's own words, "If you want to know about blood magic, you will first have to become a vampire."

Harry decided that he wasn't _that_ interested.

A wizard-vampire had a lot more power and control with blood magic than a Muggle one would, and they retained most of their wizard powers as well, and so could still use wands to perform spells. "Makes us very dangerous," Charles grinned wickedly. "The Ministry doesn't like us much at all; we caused a lot of problems, once upon a time."

Harry found himself recovering from the emotional damage that he had taken when Sirius had died, and while the grief was ever present, and tears threatened when he thought or spoke about Sirius, he found himself doing so less as he and Charles formed a bond. Charles was able to help Harry come to grips with what had happened, for he understood loss as no human possibly could. Over the millennium that his life had stretched, Charles had made many friends, only to watch them grow old and die, as he didn't change at all, he had watched over his family, those of his blood, from a distance, and watched as they too died, and a new generation took their places.

Charles had lost everyone, and had another three or four thousand years of the same loss to look forward to – or death at the hands of a vampire hunter, or his own doing, if he just could no longer stand it any more. "Vampire hunters are all too real – most of them are Muggles, but there are no few wizards in the job either. None of them are official, because the Ministry of Magic has a treaty with us, saying that they won't harm us if we don't kill wizards. They won't break the treaty officially, for fear of the retribution we might wreak.

"You don't need a wooden stake to kill a vampire, although wood is poisonous to us. A wound delivered with wood will take forever to heal, although vampires heal a lot faster than human's do, and a wound just shy of fatal will restrict us for no more than a few months, where a human might spend a year or more fully recovering. If you shoot a vampire through the heart, or cut of his head, he will die. If you push him off a cliff onto sharp rocks, he will do the same. The rocks would have to be sharp, however, because vampire bodies can take a lot more abuse than a human's could. I could jump off a ten story building and survive, though I would be badly hurt. I could jump off a four story building without doing any damage to myself. However, these powers wane if we do not drink blood, and our bodies grow weak and frail if we have not drunk enough."

Harry sometimes found himself thinking longingly of some of the vampiric traits, but he didn't want to become a vampire, not yet anyway, so he would contain his longing thoughts, and instead learn all there was to know on them, before he made _any_ decision, one way or another.

Before he really knew it, the week that he and Charles had agreed upon to get to know each other, and for Harry to make his decision – to stay with the Dursley's and the Order, or to come and live with Charles for the remainder of the summer – had passed, and the moment of his decision was upon him.

* * *

That's all, folks! Review and let me know what you think of this chapter!

Last updated on Saturday January 7th 2006.

WolfMoon


	3. Decisions

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Three: Decisions

The last night of that week came about, and Charles insisted on taking Harry out to Ella's Café, a café and restaurant which was open well into the night. Harry knew that the vampire was going to ask him for his decision. He had been thinking about it all week, but he still wasn't completely sure what he wanted to do.

They had decided to meet at the café itself. The Order had seen Harry with Charles a couple of times in the past week, as the vampire played the part of an old adult friend keeping company with the teenager on occasion. At this late stage, it wouldn't do to arouse any suspicion. There were many things on Harry's mind as he walked down the driveway to where Charles was waiting on him.

The rain had cleared up a few days before, and the residents of the town had celebrated, the children going out to play enthusiastic games with one another while the adults worked in the garden and polished their cars again. He joined Charles, and smiled a strained smile at the vampire, who smiled gently back at him.

Above them, the first of the stars were beginning to show as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving dusk in its wake. There weren't that many people out on the street, and most of them were hurrying home, or driving out to dinner. No one paid much mind to the young boy in baggy clothes, and the slightly older man who was dressed rather formally in black pants and a white shirt.

That was one thing that Harry had noticed about Charles – the vampire dressed very formally at all occasions. Whenever he thought about it, Harry felt underdressed in the vampire's presence, but most of the time he had more to think about than the state of his clothes, tonight more so than ever.

Once they reached Ella's café, they selected a seat near the back of the establishment, not wanting to be under too much scrutiny. Charles ordered and paid for a sumptuous dinner, which Harry did not even protest at. He might have complained that he had enough money to pay for his own meal, but he had too much on his mind, and Charles certainly never bothered to ask him for his opinion on the matter of money.

The food was finished and the plates taken away. Charles was left with a glass of wine which he sipped from slowly, while Harry looked back at him, sipping water from his own glass. There was silence between them: they knew what would come next, but neither was willing to actually broach the topic. Finally, Charles spoke. "We agreed upon a week, Harry," he said gently, "If you have made a decision, speak of it now. I would know what your answer will be."

"I'm not ready," Harry said in a small voice, "I need more time …"

"You do not," Charles told him softly, voice still gentle, but now there was a trace of a sharper tone beneath that softness, "I know you would like it, but I cannot give it to you."

"Why not?" Harry asked, feeling a little hurt that Charles would be so unsympathetic. He was used to the vampire being there, unquestioning, always ready to whatever it was Harry needed him to do, whether Harry knew that he needed it or not. That the vampire was suddenly being forceful surprised him, and that it was about something as important as this only made things worse.

"For one thing, I will soon have to hunt again. I will need more blood; my body cannot survive unless I have more. I said I would not hunt here, and I will not. This is only a minor concern, of course, because it would be easy enough to go elsewhere for a night and hunt … my primary concern is this: you need to make a decision and stand by it. In your life, you will have many far more important decisions to make, and you need to learn to make them now. You know in your heart what you want to do, you are merely afraid to take the final step and act on what you want. You must learn to avoid this fear."

Harry thought about this, and he supposed it made sense. Charles wasn't simply being pushy; he was still trying to help Harry. He felt his anger, starting to rise at the unexpected, fall away as if it had never been. Charles had a point in saying that Harry would need to learn to make decisions and stick by them – if he was going to defeat Voldemort, it would be important. He thought for awhile longer before he spoke again, "Just to clear this up, because I've forget to ask, if I came with you now, I would be able to go back to Hogwarts at the start of term, won't I?"

"I would not dream of keeping you from doing anything that you wanted to do. If you wish to go to Hogwarts for the school year, then you shall," Charles replied, and Harry nodded, then stared into his lemonade for awhile, while Charles simply watched him. Lots of things were running through his mind.

"Another question," he said. "Would I be able to tell any of my friends, or the Order, where I was, or who I was with?"

"No," Charles said immediately. "I would not dream of trying to keep you from communicating with your friends, but it would not be possible to say what you were doing, where you were, or who you were with. Do you think it would ease their minds any if they found out you were taking residence with a vampire?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry sighed. "Well, as long as I could send letters to them. It's not like I'm not used to missing them in the summer." He paused again for a moment, giving himself one last chance to change his mind, then looked Charles in the eye, "So, when do we leave? I need to grab a couple of things before we go, but other than that, I'm ready."

Charles's face broke into a delighted smile, and he got to his feet. "A fair journey from here," he replied. "What is it you need from your relatives house?"

"Hedwig," Harry said immediately, "My broom. My father's invisibility cloak. My clothes … um, the presents that my friends have given me – that's-"

"I know," Charles interrupted him, "You've showed me before. I know which ones you mean. I'll get them for you. Clothes will not be necessary. I will provide you with new ones, of a far better quality than those that your relatives provided you with," he continued dismissively. "I'll get your owl and broomstick and anything else I deem necessary when I get there. You, on the other hand, will go to the train station and wait for me there."

"What about the Order follower?" Harry asked.

Charles gave a faint, mischievous smile. "Come with me," he said, and started away from the table. Harry followed after him, wondering where they were going. To his surprise, Charles led him to the men's room, and Harry followed him inside, wondering what in the world the vampire was doing.

"What are we doing here?" Harry demanded when the door closed behind them.

"Relieving ourselves, of course. Is that not what one would normally do in a toilet?" Charles asked, but there was a wicked light dancing in his eyes. "We will also," he added, dropping his voice a little, "Be swapping places. When we leave here, I will wear your image and you will wear mine. The spell will break when we set eyes upon each other again."

"When are you going to place it?" Harry asked.

"I just did," Charles smirked, and Harry looked up at him, and into his own face. Charles had looked somewhat like him before, so, somehow, it wasn't surprising to see him with human eyes and glasses. He looked at himself in the mirror, and Charles gazed serenely back at him.

"So, the train station?" Harry asked.

"The train station," Charles agreed. "I will be there very soon."

Harry nodded, and the pair of them left the room, said farewell at the door, and then Harry walked away under the light of the moon, towards the train station. He wondered where they would be going, but he was sure that Charles would tell him when he returned.

He made it to the train station and waited outside, his thoughts in a whirl of action. He could leave now, go back to Privet Drive, let his life continue as it usually did … but if he did that, he would never see Charles again, never realise what he was missing out on by refusing the vampires offer. If he didn't go, he would regret it for the rest of his life, he was sure.

And it wasn't as if he had anything to lose by leaving, or anything to gain by remaining behind. He remained where he was, and waited for Charles to return, as people bustled around him, many leaving the station, and a few entering it. Soon enough, Charles was back, not seeming to be carrying anything.

"I sent Hedwig with instructions to my place," he explained to Harry, who was not expecting the sudden change from the vision of himself in front of him changing into Charles. "The Order never saw me leave. I've got your things shrunken in my pockets. Let's go, shall we?"

Well, Harry thought to himself, no backing out now. "Sure," he answered aloud. "Where are we going? You never did say."

"Glasgow," Charles replied cheerfully. "It'll take most of the night, I'm afraid, but you can sleep on the way." Harry nodded in agreement, yawning slightly, he had been sleeping more this week than he had through the first three in the holidays, and his body was getting used to the more regular sleeping pattern. "Let's go and get tickets then."

Charles purchased tickets, and Harry noticed that the train they would be taking left in five minutes time. He knew then that the timing of the night had been carefully planned out by Charles. If Harry had said no, Charles would have been gone, and Harry probably wouldn't have seen him again for a long time. If ever. He wondered if the fact that he would have little time to wait around had anything to do with it–it meant he would also have no time to change his mind.

Well, he wasn't going to change his mind, he'd already come to that decision. The Order was going to be furious, but it was his life, and he would live it how he wanted to. While he regretted the fact that he would worry his friends, he knew that he had to make his own decisions. The Order would not be there to lean on forever, and he needed to be able to think apart from them.

The train was fairly devoid of occupants when it left Little Whinging, most people seeming to travel at earlier hours, so Harry and Charles ended up with a carriage of their own. "I can pay you back for the ticket," Harry offered.

Charles just looked at him. "Harry, I am of your blood. I have accepted the responsibility of housing you and taking care of you as your guardian. Usually there would be legal channels for this that we would have to go through, but obviously we can't at this point in time. In any case, the moment you turn sixteen, you are free to choose where you want to live, and who you want to be your guardian. Your birthday is a little under a month away, I believe, so we won't be acting outside of the law for long … but what I was trying to say was that by accepting the position of your guardian, I have made myself the person who you can rely on for financial support. I will provide you with everything you need and most things that you want, and I do not expect repayment of any sort."

Harry was confused, and his confusion must have shown on his face, because Charles spoke again, gently, "I saw what your Aunt and Uncle were like – as your legal guardians, they didn't act in the least as one would have hoped, or expected. You have never known what it is like to have a legal guardian who intends to fulfil that role to the upmost. Now you do. It will take some getting used to, but I am here for you now."

Harry nodded slowly, and they lapsed into a silence. Somewhere along the way, Charles started humming softly under his breath, and Harry felt his eyelids begin to droop. Suddenly, he was snapping awake, and the train was stopping. "Did I fall asleep?" he asked, a little stupidly.

Charles smiled slightly. "You did indeed," he replied. "We are now in Glasgow, and not far from my home. Come along, we'd best get moving, I'm looking forward to the comforts of my own home, and I think you will like my house. I am quite eager to see your response, actually … and I need to feed soon."

Harry got up, a little unsteady from sleeping sitting down, and followed the vampire out of the station and down the deserted streets of the city. It was not long before dawn, the train ride had taken most of the night. They walked until they were reaching the outskirts of Glasgow, where the houses had greater gaps between them, and were a lot bigger than those closer to the city centre.

Just as the sun came over the edge of the horizon, they started up the driveway to a large estate house, with sweeping grounds and a small water garden off to one side. The house itself was old, with cathedral windows and a wide staircase leading up to the huge front doors.

There were statues at the bottom of the staircase too, dragons, with their wings spread back, mouths agape, staring down at the approaching pair. The place _screamed_ of money, Harry thought as they walked. The front doors were arched and made of some old wood and on either side of them stained glass windows rose, etched with patterns of roses and vines. "Nice," Harry remarked, although the word was incredibly inadequate to describe the luxury that was paraded before him.

"I'm glad you approve," Charles accepted the compliment. "This is one of the Potter's ancestral houses. Most of the family forgot about it in the early eighteen hundreds, so I moved in and made myself at home. I've been here ever since – the people around here believe that it's held by a family who all look very much alike, which is true, as the Potters do tend to bear an uncanny resemblance to one another."

"What about the Ministry?" Harry asked. "Don't they realise that you're a vampire? They would realise, wouldn't they?"

"They think that the Muggles are just being superstitious. They know that the house belongs to wizards, or they think it does, anyway, and they have the supposed death certificates of the previous people in the family – they don't care. I send a generous 'donation' to them each year, and they keep out of it. They have no reason to suspect me, and they want bother to look for one as long as I keep giving the money."

"But that's bribery," Harry said, "Isn't that wrong?"

"As far as I'm concerned, it's a donation – I give to the poorer parts of the Ministry, particularly the health organisations. _They_ need the extra money, and take it as a bride, although to begin with it was never intended as such. It simply turned out that way, and it's easier to get by for both of us, with this arrangement."

"I guess," Harry said slowly. It all sounded very _Malfoy_ as far as he was concerned, but what Charles did with his money was his own business, he supposed. And donating to health organisations was a good thing, they always seemed to need more money, and they _were_ helping people, which was good.

Charles walked up the steps ahead of Harry, certainly seeming very happy to be home, and threw open the doors, which opened inward, then turned to smile at Harry, bowing slightly, welcoming his descendant to his home. Behind Charles, Harry could see the entrance hall–it was even grander than the one at Hogwarts. "Welcome to my humble abode," the vampire said, with a proud smile. He had reason to be proud too, Harry thought, looking around.

This house had electricity, a Muggle luxury few wizards employed, either because they were too proud, or because they didn't understand enough about it to be able to use it even if they did have it. But the vampire seemed to have no such reservations. Lit by a giant chandelier and numerous lights almost hidden in the rest of the splendour, golden light fell down upon a plush red carpet, there were small plants scattered around the room, making it look more welcoming, with golden statues of magical creatures interspersed among them.

The walls were wood panelling, polished until it shone, and lining the walls were gold framed portraits of Harry's ancestors, looking down upon their descendant with expressions varying from stern, to happy grins, sad smiles and many others. There no portraits that portrayed anger, was one thing that Harry noted, and they all looked very like him, male and female alike, except for those who must have married into the family. Charles wasn't kidding when he said family resemblance was strong amongst the Potters.

Ahead of him was a sweeping stairway, leading up to the next floor. Going along to either side of it, deep into the ground floor of the mansion were long galleries, with more portraits, and, Harry imagined, eventually they would find doors leading off to other rooms.

Above the staircase was a huge tapestry, made of red cloth, with names picked out in gold embroidery. He could not read the names, although he knew who's they would be, for he had seen a tapestry very similar to this one gracing the walls in Grimmauld Place, recounting the names of past Blacks, although this one was a lot better preserved than the Black's had been. This was an account of his own ancestors …

This tapestry dwindled down, and as each generation came, there were less people within it. Now, Harry realised with a sad jolt, there was only name on the bottom row, and that must be his own. But there was one other Potter left, even if he was a vampire, although according to the tapestry, Charles would be dead.

"Why is the room all in Gryffindor colours?" He asked, "You said that you were in Slytherin."

"And so I was. But I did not build this house, I just moved in when everyone else seemed to have forgotten about it. Most of your line was in Gryffindor. My grandson married the descendant of one of Godric Gryffindor's brothers, so you can claim some Gryffindor blood, although not the blood of Godric himself, as he died childless," Charles replied. "Many people can claim the same thing – while Godric had no children, he had eight siblings, all of whom had rather large broods. The Weasley's have more Gryffindor blood than the Potters, and several others do as well. It comes out more in our family and in the Weasley's than it does in most.

"All of the Gryffindor family had the red hair, and the tendency for many children. The Gryffindor genes seemed to have been overridden by the Potter ones in our own family."

"Do the Weasley's know about that?" Harry asked, thinking that Ron would have probably mentioned that he was descended from Godric Gryffindor if he knew.

"I doubt it. Very few are aware of their blood – I don't think that your father was, for example. I remember, and now you know," Charles replied. "Inherently, it seems, children from both the Weasley and Potter families end up in Gryffindor, unless outside forces act upon them, or they are clearly unsuited to the role that the rest of their family has followed."

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," Harry told Charles, a fact which had told in the past only to Albus Dumbledore.

"I'm not surprised," Charles said, "After what happened with Voldemort it would have been expected – you are linked to the Heir of Slytherin through that scar of yours, it is unsurprising that you should have certain magnetism in the direction of that house. You fall under the category of those who have outside influences, and you evidently chose to avoid that particular House."

"I'd heard that Slytherin had a lot of evil wizards from it, and I didn't want to end up there, so I asked not to go there. It put in Gryffindor instead, which I've never regretted."

"Our choices make us who we are," Charles said easily, unknowingly echoing the words that Albus Dumbledore had spoken back when Harry was in his second year at Hogwarts and worried that he might not belong in Gryffindor, even though he loved the house.

Harry smiled happily at that, and was put at ease by Charles's words, that there had been others like him who had been influenced towards other houses; he wouldn't have wanted to be a black sheep in the family, after all. "The entrance hall is one of the grander rooms in the house," Charles added, "Most of them are a lot less imposing but this family has always been proud of its wealth and heritage, and most of the public rooms are just as intensely decorated. I've never had the inclination to change it. The Dining Room and the Ball Room are most notable for their appearance, although the library is, I would be the first to admit, quite impressive as well."

Charles led Harry up the staircase to the second floor, and, although the main corridor was pretty impressive, when Charles led them off it and into a small living room, Harry blinked a little from the difference. This room was lit by soft lamps, rather than harsh lights, and the pictures on the wall were just that, pictures of flowers and fantasy landscapes, rather than portraits of the old Potters. The carpet was blue, rather than red, and there were inviting leather arm chairs around an empty fireplace.

Charles gestured for Harry to take a seat, and a bell that was sitting on the mantelpiece above the fire. A moment later a young woman appeared in the doorway. "Master Charles, you have returned!" she said with a smile, then noticed Harry, "And you have a guest!"

"Yes, Lucy, this is Harry Potter, the only other living Potter," Charles said, "We are both in dire need of sustenance. A light breakfast and a cup of tea, please. What would you like to drink, Harry?"

Harry blinked, then said, "Water will be fine."

"Right away Master Charles!" The woman, Lucy, hurried away. Harry noted that while she seemed delighted to have a guest in the house, Lucy didn't seem particularly surprised that it was _him_, of all people. Perhaps Charles had been expecting him to come along ever since they had met the week before, and had made preparations to that effect without consulting Harry. Harry found that somehow, this didn't make him angry, although he would have probably become annoyed at the presumption at most other times this past year.

"Who was she?" he asked Charles, deciding that he wouldn't bring that particular topic up if the vampire didn't.

"The maid, Lucy. If you ever need service, just ring the bell, and someone will come for you, either one of the house elves - there are two - or Lucy," Charles replied. "There is a groundskeeper, a man by the name of Wilfred, but you'll meet him later."

"You have house elves?" Harry asked.

"Of course. They have been serving the family for generations," Charles replied, "Although the Potters never went in for treating them as anything other than willing servants, rather than slaves, as many families do. It would be an unkindness to set them free, after all. They have a good home, get good treatment, and are doing something that they enjoy."

Harry nodded, glad that Hermione wasn't with him. She would be freaking out at the mention of house elves, after all. "Lucy and Wilfred … are they human?" he asked.

"Of course," Charles said mildly. "They both attended Hogwarts some years ago, but don't have any great prowess at magic. They have enough to deal with most things they'll come up working with me. They know about vampires and know that they don't have to be afraid of me. They know all about the magical world, so things like the moving portrait gallery don't worry them at all."

Harry nodded his understanding. "So they know all about you then?" he asked.

"Yes," Charles replied, "If I go too long without a feed, or am doing something too important to interrupt for the business of hunting both are quite happy to allow me to drink some of their blood. Not much, and not often, because that would make them sick, but enough to be going with at the time. It is very useful, sometimes. I would not hide my true nature from any who live with me, to do so would be highly discourteous … and the truth always seems to find a way of getting out."

Harry shuddered slightly at the thought of the vampire feeding on him. He didn't think he could ever just allow Charles to drink his blood, it seemed to … _weird_. Although he supposed he should be used to weird things happening, really, given that he went to Hogwarts and all.

The idea that Charles had to drink blood was extremely weird in itself, because he seemed so _nice_. Harry had gotten to know the vampire over the last week, and the thought that he was a blood drinking 'monster' in most people estimation was just … unthinkable. But he knew that it was true, he'd seen Charles drink from that Death Eater, although to Harry, most of what had happened that night seemed like a dream now.

Charles saw the shudder, and guessed what it meant. "You have no need to worry about me feeding on you," he assured Harry. "Vampire law decrees that feeding on children is a sin beyond all measure, because their bodies cannot cope with the loss of the blood, and such an action could have far reaching consequences. We count children as being fifteen years or younger. It is also against our laws to turn anyone under the age of twenty one, unless in the last extremes of saving that persons life."

Harry nodded, feeling a little bit better at that, and before he had the opportunity to ask more questions, Lucy arrived again, now burdened by a tray that looked as if it were about to collapse under the sheer weight of food that was piled upon it. Harry thought Charles had asked for a _light_ breakfast.

She set the tray down, "Anything else, Master Charles?"

"No, that will be all for the moment," Charles replied, and Lucy curtseyed and hurried out to go about her other tasks "Dig in," Charles advised Harry, nodding to the breakfast, and Harry was surprised to find himself feeling very hungry.

He and Charles both ate rather ravenously, and Harry wondered if Charles was getting hungry for something other than human food. He had said that he would need to hunt soon, Harry remembered. He supposed that the food would help ward off the hunger for blood until Charles could hunt, or go to Lucy or Wilfred for some of theirs to tide him over.

When they finished, Charles rang the bell again, but it wasn't Lucy who came to take the plates away. When the plates disappeared without any sign of someone being there, Harry guessed that a house elf had come to deal with them. "Now, I think you should probably go to your room and rest for a time," Charles told Harry, "Although you slept on the journey here, I'm sure you're still tired."

"Yeah, I am a bit," Harry admitted, standing up when Charles did and following him through another set of corridors. There was a main corridor on the second floor, Harry would learn, that led to a couple of small rooms, as well as the main 'public' rooms on this floor, but there was a warren of passages that led through the rest of the floor, leading to all of the private rooms, of which Harry's bedroom was one. As the house was magic, Harry was fairly sure that it was bigger on the inside than it appeared to be from the exterior of the dwelling.

His own room was on the far side of the house, looking out over the water garden that he had noticed on the way to the house, and was much bigger than any of the rooms in the entirety of the Dursley's house had been. There was a walk-in wardrobe that was completely empty - which made him feel rather embarrassed - a personal bookshelf, also empty, but he supposed that would be dealt with in time, a king sized four poster bed with soft blue hangings, a large desk on which he could do homework, and the exterior wall was a single sheet of glass, giving him a perfect view over the grounds. One part of the window could be pushed open, and just beside a cage was resting, the door pinned open, and within it, Hedwig was sitting, awake and alert, looking around with wide amber eyes, as if wondering what she was doing in this strange place.

"Sleep well," Charles told Harry with a smile, "If you wish to leave the room, you might want to summon Lucy or the house elves, because this house is very easy to get lost in until you learn your way around. I wouldn't want you to end up wandering around the house lost for days – it might take us awhile to find you in a house this size!"

Harry nodded absently, still a little overcome by the luxury of the room. "There is an en suite," Charles added, nodding to a door on one side of the room, "If you wish to bath before you sleep." With that, he saw himself out, before Harry could thank him for the room.

"Wow," He whispered, looking around. Hedwig looked at him. "We'll be staying here for awhile Hedwig," he told her, "You should probably get some rest too – it must have been a long flight here." The owl gave a soft affirmative hoot, and tucked her head beneath her wing.

Now that he had this whole new room to explore, Harry discovered that he wasn't in the least bit tired, and instead poked around in the en suit, which looked like a room modelled on something in the far distant future. It was covered in marble tiles, with fluffy white towels and a bath robe hanging on the door. The taps and door handles were polished to shine like gold, and there was a spa bath in the centre of the room, with oils, hair products, bubble bath and much more resting around the edges.

Like the rest of the house, the room screamed of money, and the luxury of it made him feel a little out of place after living with the Dursley's. Even at Hogwarts he had never really had access to something like this. The Prefect bathroom that he had visited once in fourth year had come close, but it didn't really have anything on this.

After awhile of simply standing and looking around, Harry decided that he would have to try out the spa before he went to sleep. Once he'd filled the bath, scented the water, and added bubble bath, he turned on the jets and letting them massage his weary body, as the bubbles swirled and frothed around him as he relaxed for the first time in months.

Eventually, as his eyes started slipping shut, Harry decided that it was time to get out, and let out the water as he got up and dried himself off with the soft towels, wrapping himself in the bathrobe and stumbling sleepily into his new room. But before he could actually sleep, he pawed through the pile of things that Charles had left on his desk, setting aside his broom and a number of other small items, like the Sneakoscope from Ron, and the Broomstick Servicing Pack from Hermione, until he found the photo album that Hagrid had given him back in his first year at Hogwarts.

He flipped through now worn pages of the book, gazing down at the images of his parents contained within. There were only a couple of pictures of Sirius within, but he spent a long time staring at those. He climbed into bed, the photo album still open and where he could see it, and for awhile, he continued to gaze upon the images that were his only link to those who had passed on.

After awhile, he turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the album open beside him, but pushed to the far side of the bed. Before he fell asleep, Harry spoke to those who had passed on. "I'm sorry if I made the wrong decision tonight … but I couldn't stay where I was. I hope that you don't mind, I don't want to have betrayed you, but I wanted this so bad …"

Outside in the hallway, Charles's acute sense of hearing heard the soft words that Harry spoke, and he sighed softly, answering the boy even though he knew that Harry would not hear him. "I hope you made the right decision too, and I'm very glad you are here. You don't need to think that you have betrayed your parents or your godfather because you came here, Harry. You have a right to be happy too."

* * *

Please Review!

This chapter was last updated on Saturday January 7th 2006

WolfMoon


	4. Shopping

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Four: Shopping

Harry woke around lunch time, feeling very comfortable lying in his new bed, in his new room, in the house of his ancestors. For awhile, he just lay there, hardly able to believe the change that had just occurred in his life. He just hoped that it would be for the best. He dressed again in the clothes he had worn from the Dursley's, and in them he felt very shabby compared to the splendour of the house he was in.

Mindful of Charles' warning to summon a servant when he wanted to leave his room, in case he got lost, Harry rang the bell, and a moment later a house elf appeared, peering around the edge of the door and then stepping into the room and bowing deeply to Harry. "Holly is here, Master Harry," the creature – a female, Harry realised quickly - said, "How is Holly being able to serve Master Harry?"

"Um, Charles said that I should call one of the servants if I wanted to leave my room, because it's easy to get lost here," Harry said. "Could you take me to Charles?"

"Holly is afraid she cannot do this, Master Harry. Master Charles is being meeting with Important People, Sir," Holly said, her bat like ears twining together as she looked at him with apologetic bulbus green eyes. "Master Charles is suggesting that Holly show Master Harry to the library."

"Ok," Harry shrugged, "Whatever." He just wanted something to do.

"If Master Harry would come with me," Holly said, and backed out of the room. Harry followed, and was led down a dizzying selection of corridors, and as he walked, he did his best to note anything interesting or unusual so that he could find his way back here if he wanted to. He didn't want to have a nursemaid for any longer than necessary.

Holly took him to one of two smaller entrances to the library, and opened the door, waiting for him to precede her into the room. He found himself standing in a huge room with a vaulted ceiling, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls and marching across the room. The walls between the shelves, and the shelves themselves, were dark wood panelling, the carpet was the same plush red as the entrance hall, the place was lit with electric lights, hanging between the shelves and lighting them all perfectly.

There were several tables and comfortable arm chairs for settling down and reading in, and the room really felt _welcoming_, and made Harry want to find a book, sit down and just read for awhile, which was very different to how the library at Hogwarts felt. With Madam Pince breathing down the necks of any student who went near her precious books, and the fact that the place had been made for study, very few students actually enjoyed spending time there.

Each shelf was carefully marked, first with the subject which the books within contained, and then by author, in alphabetical order. Not only were there wizard books, on everything from Transfiguration, Charms and Potions to obscure histories, travellers accounts and much more, but there were also Muggle books, of their histories, text books that Muggle children would go to school with, covering subjects that Harry had almost forgotten, like maths, English and science, and novels from all sorts of genres.

Even in the Hogwarts library he had never seen anything _quite_ like this. Certainly at Hogwarts there were no Muggle books. Interested, Harry started wandering through the shelves, looking at different books, both in the Muggle and magical sections. There was a wealth of knowledge contained within. He found several sections that were dedicated to books in foreign languages, with everything from French to Chinese, which he couldn't read because he didn't know the languages.

He didn't even notice Holly trailing around behind him until the house elf spoke while he was idly flipping through one of the books, "If Master Harry is wanting to take some of the books back to Master Harry's room, Holly is being happy to help!" she squeaked at him, and Harry jumped slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, there are a couple that I'd like to take with me," he said, closing the book that he was currently flipping through. "This one, for starters," Holly reached up and took it from him, setting it to hover beside her as Harry backtracked through the shelves he had gone through so far, and picked out more books. He was glad that Holly didn't try to carry them herself, because otherwise he would have felt guilty, but rather held them with magic.

He collected a rather sizable pile, most of them tomes on Defence Against the Dark Arts, a couple of histories that looked sort of interesting, and one on Quidditch that he hadn't seen before. "Would Master Harry be wanting Holly to take the books to the Master's room?" the house elf asked him.

"May as well," Harry shrugged, and they set off again, this time heading back, and again Harry memorised points along the way as best he could so that he could begin learning his way around. Back in his own room, all the books were neatly shelved in his bookcase, as though it were a miniature library.

Holly asked if he was hungry, and when Harry admitted that he was, she whisked off to get him something to eat, while Harry himself flopped down on his bed, propped up by a wealth of pillows, and started to read one of the books, which was a history of the Ministry of Magic.

He'd been kind of interested in reading it because he was still angry at the amount of corruption that he had discovered hiding beneath the surface of the current-day Ministry, and he wondered if things had always been like that. He became rather engrossed in the content of the book – the Ministry, it seemed, had been set up about two hundred years before Hogwarts had been founded, so almost fourteen hundred years ago, which was a _long_ time, Harry thought.

The reason for the Ministry's creation was because many wizards were trying to take control of the Wizarding world and create an autocratic society. In a democratic decision, the Wizarding world installed a governing body run by not one but many wizards, to try and keep the society running smoothly.

Harry was amazed at how much had changed since the founding of that society – in the present, of course, was Fudge, who had tried to bring Hogwarts under his control. Fudge, Harry thought disgustedly, would have worked well as one of those old wizards trying to found the autocratic system.

He was startled when the door was opened and looked up to find Holly coming in with a large tray of food. Like breakfast, the food was piled up on the tray and steaming lightly. Holly sat it down on the desk, and Harry got up, feeling his stomach growl softly and hungrily. "Thank you, Holly," Harry said softly. Holly curtseyed and saw herself out, while Harry gave the food his full attention for a short time.

He didn't come anywhere near finishing all of it. While in the last week he had been eating a fair bit, before Charles had turned up so memorably in his life he had been eating almost nothing, completely taken over by his grief for Sirius, which he was by no means over, but at least he was able to function normally again.

Harry put all of this down to the fact that he had someone who really understood what was happening, and someone he could further relate to as a member of his family, which was a nice change. Even so his body was unused to eating all that much, and couldn't cope with all the food that it was being presented with. He left the tray on his desk and returned to his book, which he found fascinating.

After a little while of reading, however, he started to get a little fidgety and decided to put the book down for awhile and explore his new room properly instead. Going through the things that Charles had picked up from the Dursley's, Harry got all of his spell books out and set them on the bookshelf, hung his school robes in the wardrobe and folded his invisibility cloak into a drawer in clothes chest.

When he opened the drawers of the desk, he discovered quills, Muggle pens, parchment and booklets of paper, along with everything else he could have thought necessary. In the bottom drawer, much to his surprise, he found a laptop with its cords set neatly beside it.

It was not the only modern thing in the room, of course. Harry had found a CD player and a couple of CDs, although they were all of classical music – somehow he wasn't surprised that Charles would listen to this – and there was a TV in one corner of the room, although it had not been plugged in.

Still, he had never heard of there being a computer in a wizard's house, and he had only ever used one once before. He considered calling Holly back to ask her about plugging in the TV, but he decided not to at that point in time. Instead, he put his Firebolt carefully in one corner of the room, and set his other things around the room in places where they seemed to fit properly.

He had never had the privilege of organising his own room with an intension of remaining there for a long time. He had never particularly liked the idea of making his room at the Dursley's seem a permanent sanctuary, but even though he had been in this one for less than a day, he felt that it wouldn't be right to do anything else.

Near dusk, there was a soft knock on his door, and Charles let himself in before Harry could call out an invitation. "Charles!" Harry smiled happily in greeting, marking his place in the book and swinging his legs over the side of the bed so that he was sitting on the edge of it.

"Hello Harry. I'm sorry I couldn't come by before now, but I've had several important guests today, from the vampire world, asking me to do things that I would rather avoid, and now can avoid, since you are here and even they agree that my first duty is to my ward," Charles said. "I see you found the library."

"Yeah," Harry smiled, "You've got a lot of books in there."

"_We_ have a lot of books in there. As the last living Potter, you own them as much as I do," Charles replied. "How would you like to go shopping tomorrow? You certainly can't continue to wear those clothes for the rest of the summer."

"Sounds like a _very_ good idea to me," Harry replied. He really did need to get more clothes and it would be great, spending time with Charles. He enjoyed the man's company more than he had realised, after having to spend the afternoon alone again today. He mentally scolded himself, reminding himself that Charles had other things to do, and Harry really should be completely used to spending his summers alone, but he was too happy to be in Charles' company again to care too much.

"In the mean time, you can borrow some clothes from me," Charles decided, "We're of about the same build, and you've been wearing those clothes for two days now. If I'd been thinking a little clearer this morning, I would have given you something new to wear," Charles added. "Come along, we'll go to my room and find something for you to wear in the meantime."

"It's ok," Harry tried to protest, but Charles just fixed him with a look, and Harry caved in, standing up and setting his book down, ready to follow Charles and get some new clothes. He still felt uncomfortable accepting things from Charles, or anyone for that matter, because he was so used to going without. Oh well, sometime he would find a way to make it up to Charles, and then he would feel a little better about accepting all of this stuff.

"Before we go," Harry added, remembering the television, "Do you mind if I plug the TV in and watch it sometimes?"

"Not at all!" Charles smiled, "I shall ask Holly to take care of that immediately. You must also feel free to make use of the laptop in the desk drawers. It's connected to the internet, although I don't know what else you would want to have on it. Of course, you only have to ask and I'll see to it that you get whatever you wish for it."

"Thanks," Harry said, wondering if he would even have a reason to use the laptop. He had once day-dreamed of using Dudley's computer, but that was before he had started at Hogwarts, and since then he had barely ever used Muggle inventions. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Do. There are some very interesting things on the internet, even things about our world, if you look long and hard enough. It can be difficult to separate the truth from fiction, but it is out there. If you look for the right things, anyway. Was that all you wished to ask?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, "That was all, at the moment anyway."

"What are you reading?" Charles asked, as he started towards the door.

"_A History of the Ministry_," Harry replied. "It's pretty interesting."

Charles smiled, "I thought it was," he agreed, glancing briefly over the titles that were residing on Harry's bookshelf, before stepping out of the room with Harry following behind him. "You've got some pretty heavy reading here, for a boy your age," most of the books that Harry had taken from the library were accounts of the defeats of various Dark Lords throughout history, or studies of Defence Against the Dark Arts spell books.

He might not be able to practice magic, but he _could_ and _would_ read up on as much as he could so that he could get straight to the business of learning how to perform the spells when he got back to Hogwarts. Also, looking at how other Dark Lords had been defeated throughout history would give him ideas on how he might handle his own problem. Harry shrugged under Charles' inquisitive look. He hadn't told anyone about the Prophecy, and he didn't want to, not quite yet anyway. He would tell Charles at some point, but not yet.

He steered the conversation away from his selected reading material and instead asked about the house and its history, when it had been built, who had built it, what his ancestors had been like. Charles let him change the subject, and soon they were lost in a discussion of Harry's various relatives, which he enjoyed no end, as they wound through the many twists and turns of the manor house.

Charles' room was on the other side of the house to Harry's, and, as they walked, Charles remarked that should Harry ever need anything, he would do better to summon one of the house elves and send them to find him, because Harry would probably have difficulty tracking Charles down.

Finally, however, they did reach Charles' room, which was far larger and more elaborate than Harry's was, which Harry found a little reassuring. If he had been given this room, he wasn't sure how he would have been able to accept it. It was the biggest bedroom he'd seen in his life, and was filled with the accumulated things of a vampiric lifetime, just like the rest of the house.

This room, however, was more personalised than many of the other rooms that Harry had seen so far. There were pictures of people who Charles must have known throughout his long life, little knick-knacks rather like those that Harry had, just under a month before, been destroying in Dumbledore's office.

The bed was huge, and looked very comfortable, piled with even more pillows than Harry's was, and the colours in the room were a lot darker than the other rooms that Harry had been in. The panelled walls were of a very dark timber, and the furnishings mostly in green and silver, showing the Slytherin side of Charles that wasn't shared by the rest of the house.

The walk-in wardrobe in Charles' room was filled and nearly overflowing with all of the clothes that the vampire had. It was already four or five times the size of Harry's, and Harry didn't think he had seen as many clothes before in his life, even in a clothing store.

The clothes within were a dazzling collection of styles that had come and passed over the long reaches of the vampire's life. The portion of the clothes that Harry saw were mainly in the same style as Charles was wearing at the moment, as this seemed to be his favoured look at the moment, and Charles hastily searched through the clothing to find things that would suit Harry, handing a collection of things to the boy and sending him into the en suite in Charles' quarters to change.

Harry spent half an hour parading in front of Charles in all the outfits that the vampire had selected for him, before Charles settled on a couple of outfits that Harry could borrow for the moment. Harry felt very fine and much less alienated from the house and its other inhabitants wearing these clothes.

"There, _now_ you look like my grandson," Charles said with a smile, showing Harry his reflection in full-sized mirror. Harry had to admit that he looked _very_ like Charles in his borrowed finery, but that didn't concern him at all. He liked his ancestor a lot, and since Charles always looked very dashing in his clothing, Harry figured that he would look just as good.

After Harry was suitably dressed, he and Charles made their way to the room in which they had dined that morning, and Charles called for dinner while he and Harry talked some more. "What exactly are you, in relation to me?" Harry asked, "I know you're my several greats grandfather, but just how many are there, actually?"

"Let me think," Charles said, brow furrowing a little as he counted the generations back to himself. "Sixteen, I'd say," he said after a moment of silence, then nodded firmly, "Yes, that sounds right. I'm your sixteen-times-great grandfather …. But I think it would work a lot easier if you referred to me as your uncle in public, and, should it ever come out that I'm a vampire, you can just call me your grandfather. Much less complicated."

Harry smiled and nodded. He could hardly go around claiming that Charles was his sixteen-times-great grandfather, when the vampire looked no older than thirty, and could quite easily be taken as being a good deal younger than that. 'Uncle' to him worked just fine.

Their discussions, which wandered rather randomly from this to that came to a close a little before midnight, when Charles sent Harry to bed, claiming that he needed sleep before the days shopping tomorrow. "I'll have someone wake you reasonably early in the morning so that we can dine together before we head out," Charles promised as he walked Harry to his bedroom.

Harry smiled thankfully at that, he didn't know what time he was likely to wake up, but it would probably be a good thing if someone was there, just in case he overslept. He and Charles said goodnight, and Harry carefully removed his clothes, setting them neatly down, because they were of a better quality than anything he had owned before, and because he had borrowed it from Charles. Usually he just threw his clothes on the floor, but these seemed worthy of a little more respect.

Clothes seen to, Harry slipped into his comfortable bed, considered reading for a little while before he fell asleep, but decided that he was too tired and he would just go straight to sleep. He was rather excited by the prospect of shopping the next day, because he was sure that Charles would turn it into a very enjoyable experience.

When he was awoken the next morning by Holly, he got up and went into the bathroom to shower before he had breakfast with Charles, in case he didn't have time afterwards, and considered his sleeping patterns since he had met Charles. He hadn't dreamed, not once, that he could remember. Through the day, his scar still prickled uncomfortably sometimes, but it wasn't as bothersome as it had been before the vampire had turned up.

He supposed he could ask Charles if the vampire knew what was going on, but if he paid attention to it, it might stop, and he didn't want that. He liked it this way, and even though answers as to why things had changed would be nice, he was simply happy that they _had_ changed, at the moment.

Breakfast was a quiet but enjoyable, affair, with lots of food, as Harry had come to expect. Charles looked more alive than he had when they had first arrived at the ancient Potter abode, and explained that off as being mostly because he had had a chance to feed on blood, kindly donated by Lucy, and last night had gone hunting for a proper meal.

When they had finished eating–Charles consuming a lot more than Harry–they were pretty much ready to leave. As always, Charles was immaculately dressed in black slacks and a white silk shirt with a black tie, with a navy blue coat over the top and highly polished black leather shoes. For once, however, Harry did not feel ridiculously underdressed, since he was wearing another borrowed outfit from Charles. It would be good tonight, because then he would have his own clothes, and he wouldn't have to feel like his own clothing was inadequate.

"If we can go to London sometime, I can get some money to pay you back for anything we buy today," he offered as they walked down the steps and into the sunlight. Charles reached into a pocket and brought out his sunglasses, slipping them and looking down at the ground, away from the sun. He didn't like going out at day, but sometimes it was necessary. Harry knew that Charles was wearing sunscreen, and that his warm clothing was from necessity, not because the day was cool. Quite the opposite in fact, it was a warm day, even for the summer.

"Nonsense," Charles said, as he always did when Harry offered to pay for something. "Our money basically comes from the same account as it is–all the Potter money does. Each member of the family adds to it when they get a job, and off from the main accounts are sub accounts for different members. I get my money directly from the main account, you get yours from a school fund account that your parents set up for you. It's all the same in the end. All the money from your parents which was in their vault was moved to the main one upon their death, and you were to be given access to that when you finished school."

Harry supposed he had a point, and so stopped arguing about it. He didn't know how much money that meant he had, but he figured that it was a lot. As they stepped down onto firm earth rather than the stone of the steps, there was the noise of an engine coming to life, and a moment later an impressive looking black car appeared from one side of the mansion, coming to rest in front of them. Its windows were blackened so as not to let the sunlight through, and the windscreen tinted. The driver's door opened and a middle aged man with greying brown hair, wearing a neat suit stepped out.

"Harry, this is Wilfred, chauffeur and grounds keeper, Wilfred, this is my grandson, Harry," Charles introduced them

"Pleased to meet you Sir," Wilfred nodded politely. His accent held traces of London in it, Harry thought. Wilfred, like Lucy, didn't seem surprised to see Harry, although Harry figured that the grounds keeper and chauffeur would have been told all about him by Lucy not long after his arrival.

"Likewise," Harry said, somehow thinking that it would be inappropriate to shake this fellow's hand, since he was supposed to be a family servant of some sort, certainly Wilfred didn't offer to shake. The chauffeur opened the back door and Charles climbed in, before leading Harry around to the other side of the vehicle and letting him in as well, then going around to the front again and climbing into the driver's seat, and they were off, heading for the centre of Glasgow.

Both Charles and Wilfred evidently knew the city very well, because they went straight to a large shopping complex in the centre of town, but rather than parking there, drove around the block to park in front of a busy street front. "All of my clothes are tailor made–it's the only way to dress," Charles explained calmly to Harry as Wilfred opened the doors for them. "I see no reason not to do the same for you."

He led Harry straight into a small shop set a little back from the street front that most people seemed to overlook a little. "Mr. Elsen doesn't particularly like tending to the needs of the general populace," Charles informed Harry as they stepped into the shop, Wilfred walking a little behind them. "So most people don't tend to notice it. Regular customers bring those they believe will suit him, and he usually deigns to serve them. He serves both wizards and Muggles, although he is a wizard himself. He prefers to do things the Muggle way whenever possible, however, being Muggle born himself."

Harry nodded slightly. The shop was rather dark and more than a little unwelcoming. He unconsciously moved a little closer to Charles, for the support of knowing that there was someone there with him. A moment later an older man, dressed in an old-style suit, stepped out of the darkness and smiled faintly in greeting.

"Charles Potter, a pleasure to see you again Sir," the man said. His back was very straight and he looked every bit as imposing as Professor McGonagall did. His hair was completely grey and neatly cut and he walked with all the energy of a far younger man.

"John Elsen, likewise," Charles nodded. "I've brought my young ward, Harry, here for a new wardrobe. He lost most of his not long before he came under my care."

Mr. Elsen looked at Harry intently for a moment, "So, this is where young Master Potter has disappeared off to," he remarked softly. "I had wondered if you had had anything to do with that, Charles." He saw Harry's fearful look, and the way Harry's hand inched towards his wand, and smiled. "Rest assured, your secret is safe with me. You can trust on John Elsen's discretion! But you've caused quite a stir you know."

Charles smiled, "You can trust him," he reassured Harry, who still seemed a little nervous about having his secret known by someone who wasn't Charles or one of the people at Charles' house. But if Charles thought the man trustworthy, then Harry would listen, since Charles knew the man best.

"It will be an honour to provide such a renowned young gentleman with a new wardrobe," Mr. Elsen said, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

Out the back, the shop was much more inviting, although the lights were harsh after the dim front. They had to be, Harry supposed, so Mr. Elsen could see properly to sew. "What sort of clothes will Master Harry be wanting?" Mr. Elsen asked Charles, rather than Harry.

"The same as me," Charles replied, and Harry smiled slightly. It would be great to have new clothes, and since Harry and Charles looked so alike, it was, he thought, fair to assume that he would look as good as Charles did when wearing the same sorts of clothes. "Perhaps also some more casual clothes, something more suitable for a teenager to wear."

"He will appreciate more casual clothes to you, I believe," Mr. Elsen agreed. "The young do like their exotic new styles. But he does look good in the same style as you. Would you prefer Muggle or Wizard styles of dress, Master Potter?" this was addressed to Harry.

"Umm … both, I think," Harry replied. Mr. Elsen nodded absently, seeming as if he had expected this response.

Harry found himself hustled up onto a low stool and measured out carefully, all the results being written down. "So I can easily make new clothes as you require them," Mr. Elsen said to Harry, who nodded slightly. Getting clothes, Harry discovered, was a long and rather boring process. Mr. Elsen measured him, then got out ready cut fabric that was around Harry's size, and got out pins, pinning everything to fit. "I always keep some fabric cut close to Charles's size in his usual favourite styles," the tailor continued, "That will mean I will have a pair of clothes ready for you fairly quickly."

Once the clothes had been pinned, their small group went to the shopping complex to shop for things like shoes and other small items that didn't need to be tailor made, as well as buying some outfits from shops here. Although Charles himself refused to wear anything that hadn't been tailor made, Harry didn't have the same reservations on clothes, and Charles was happy to buy him anything that he liked the look of.

They went back to the shop some hours later, to find two sets of clothes done, identical to Charles' own clothes, and John promised that he would have several more sets finished by the end of the week, working currently on Muggle styles. "I'll get started on Wizard wear shortly – I'm guessing that Mr. Potter won't be taking you into the Magical community any time soon, but I'll have a proper wardrobe for you in time for the start of term at Hogwarts." Harry smiled and thanked him, and then he and Charles left the shop.

"He is a fast worker, John Elsen," Charles remarked, "And a good one, for all he's picky in his customers. Now, there is a small Wizarding shopping area here, which we will be going to for wizard-wear for you. I brought your Hogwarts robes from Privet Drive, of course, but they will be getting rather small on you now, and I would imagine that your Quidditch robes are getting rather small for you now."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I'll be able to go flying at your place, won't I?" he realised suddenly; face breaking into a wide smile. He was so used to being unable to fly in the holidays that this hadn't fully sunk in yet. Charles laughed and nodded.

"Indeed you will. We'll buy a couple of sets of robes here, but I would advise leaving the majority of your purchases for John to make up for you," Charles added. Harry nodded in agreement, thinking that it would be nice to be able to wear robes around, as they could be a lot more comfortable than Muggle clothes sometimes.

The Wizard shopping area was indeed quite small, a robe shop, a book shop, a pet store, a very small bank booth for transfers from London, and an Apothecary. Charles went straight for the robe shop. "Isn't there anyone who sells wands here?" Harry asked, considering that this were very important to Wizarding society.

Charles smiled, "For bigger purchases like that, one has to go to Diagon Alley, or elsewhere in the Magical world.. This place was simply set up so that the wizards around here can deal locally and not make a bigger deal out of small things than necessary. If there something that our shops here don't have, either we can go to London, or they can order them in for us."

Harry nodded, he supposed this made sense. Diagon Alley was a big day out, after all. So many shops and people rushing everywhere, all in all, a very public place. He supposed that a lot of people wouldn't be going to Diagon Alley any more because big groups of people made big targets, and with Voldemort lurking, targets were a bad thing.

The people in the robe shop evidently knew Charles quite well, "I'm shopping for my new ward," he told the assistant, "We require day robes and some Quidditch robes."

"Of course, Mr. Charles," she told him, "You'll need to go to the sports shop for gloves and that sort of thing, but we can certainly get some Quidditch robes for your ward, if you'll just come out the back … Did you hear, Mr. Charles, it was all over the news this morning, Harry Potter's disappeared! The Ministry's in a right royal uproar about it, as you'd expect. They should have been keeping him safe! Oooh, I hope he hasn't been abducted by You-Know-Who! After everything the poor child went through last year, that'd really put the icing on the cake! Even old Dumbledore's put out a word, asking for any information regarded his whereabouts!" The gossipy assistant didn't seem to notice the nervous look on Harry's face, or his surreptitious flattening of his fringe.

He wondered why she didn't suspect Charles of having something to do with Harry Potter's disappearance, but figured fairly quickly that she would have known Charles for a long time, and simply wouldn't suspect him of doing anything like that … never mind that if she had, she would have been on the right track.

Robes, Harry knew, took a lot less time than the full outfits from Muggle shops did to make, because the assistants simply modified robes with magic, rather than actual sewing machines or anything like that. In half an hour, they had purchased three sets of robes, two casual, one very formal. "If there are any other vampire meetings, you may be asked to attend, if you do not wish to feel out of place all night, the robes would be very useful, and perfectly acceptable." Charles explained.

Harry nodded, wishing that he had had something like this to wear to his trial at the Ministry the previous summer. It would have made him feel a lot better.

Before they left the wizards shopping area, Charles dropped by the bookshop to pick up a couple of books that he had had ordered in, and went briefly into the Quidditch shop to see if there was anything new that Harry needed there. There were posters all over the walls proclaiming the imminent release of a new broomstick, made by the same company as the Firebolt. It was to be called 'Thunderbolt' and was advertised as being able to reach the speed of sound.

"Would you like one?" Charles asked, although the posters all stated that it would not be released for another two months.

Harry looked at the poster, highly tempted, but shook his head, "No thanks," he said quietly. "Sirius bought me the Firebolt, and I'm really happy with it anyway."

Charles smiled in an understanding way, "Of course. I just thought I would check – I know that you love flying. If you ever change your mind, just say so, and I'll buy it for you." Aside from looking at the new broom, Harry bought a new set of gloves and a few other things.

With that, they all went back to the car, and Harry sat down with a feeling of relief for the drive home. "There," Charles said happily, "Now that clothes are taken care of, we probably won't have to go out again for some time to come. Which is all to the good, because everyone's going to be out looking for you, and we don't want anyone trying to drag you back to those awful Muggle relatives of yours. And I won't have to go out in sunlight."

"Why didn't that woman suspect that you might have had something to do with my disappearance?" Harry asked.

"The people here, save for John, don't know much about me. No one else actually knows that my last name is Potter, and while a few people might think that you and I have some features in common, from looking at pictures of you in the paper, they simply don't believe that someone they know could be related to someone famous … and they know that you have no living relatives on your father's side."

Harry nodded. "OK, that was confusing me a little with her," he explained, "But it makes sense now. Do you think I should send a note to Dumbledore and let him know that I'm alright? She said that he was asking for news of me as well, and with the Ministry, the Death Eaters _and_ the Order looking for me, they might actually stand a chance of finding me."

"Yes, probably," Charles muttered, "That would be a good idea … obviously don't tell him where you are. Our home is unplottable, so even if someone tried to follow your owl here, they'd get completely lost. But it would be easier if they weren't looking for you, that way we would have fewer minds to guard against, and accidents can still happen … yes, you'd better send a note when we get back home."

When they got home, Harry went back to his room. Holly came with him, taking his clothes and putting them away, completely ignoring Harry's protests that he could it on his own. With nothing else to do and realising that it was a fairly important consideration, Harry wrote the letter he had mentioned.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Sorry for not writing to you before I left, but I thought you might have stopped me if you had known what my intentions were. I know that you believe remaining with my Aunt is the best thing for me, but I cannot agree. I need time, and someone who understands what I've been going through to help me get over Sirius's death._

_I have found exactly the place that I need, and I'm sure you will understand when I do not tell you where I am. I do not know if you would approve or not, and I have every intention of remaining right where I am, no matter what you might think of the arrangement. I am safe, don't worry about that, and I will be at Hogwarts for the new term, when September the first comes around._

_I am safe from Voldemort here as well, he will not find me, and neither will you. Do not try to follow Hedwig back, this place is unplottable, and it won't work. Just leave me alone for the holidays, and let me get used to things on my own. THIS IS WHAT I WANT, and if you try anything else, I won't be happy about it._

_I'm sorry for worrying you, but I've done what I had to._

_From Harry._

_P.S. You can write to me here if you want to, but only if Hedwig is bearing the messages. Do not try to persuade me any differently. My mind is made up. But I would like to hear from my friends, so please let them know that they can send me letters here … _

His letter written, he handed it to Hedwig. "Here you go girl, can you take this to London for me? I know it's a long flight, but it's really important."

Hedwig gave a soft hoot, and held out her foot so that Harry could attach the letter, then, when he had, she soared out the window. Harry closed it behind her and got a set of his new clothes, heading into the bathroom for another spa bath, which was a luxury he was very much enjoying at the moment.

Dressed in his new clothes – black slacks and a white silk shirt, very like Charles, just without the tie or the jacket – he left the bathroom and summoned Holly so that she could lead him to Charles, who was waiting for him in the small room that they had eaten breakfast in, both the day before and this morning.

"Much better," Charles enthused when he saw Harry, who smiled. Now he had his own clothes, and no longer needed to borrow things from Charles. He had to remember to give Charles his clothes back, too. While the clothes were a little stiff and itchy, he knew that would fade with time, and they were more comfortable than anything else he had ever worn … except perhaps his Hogwarts robes.

"Thanks," Harry said. The room had been rearranged so that two people fitted better, the two arm chairs turned to face one another, with a table between them. Usually, the table was a wooden one, but it had been changed to glass for the moment, with silver inlays forming squares across the centre.

Small silver and gold statues of chess pieces were set out in their appropriate positions on what was one of the more impressive chessboards Harry had ever seen. The little figures were animated, so it was obviously Wizard Chess, which Harry played with Ron a lot. He always lost.

"Do you play chess?" Charles asked him with a smile.

"My friend Ron is a master of it," Harry replied, "I'm not very good, and he always wins against me," although he didn't say it, he was sure that Charles would be able to run rings around Ron with a chessboard. He had, after all, had a millennium to practice.

"Would you like to join me in a game then?" Charles smiled.

"I suppose," Harry said.

"You may play white," Charles offered, as Harry sat down across from him.

Harry nodded, and made the first move. Charles played, and then Harry did. With Ron, he had never really gotten all that better at playing, because he just moved without thinking. Charles easily defeated him in their first round, and then, in their second, pointed out that Harry had to think more before he made a move, and consider the repercussions of that move. Charles pointed out various things that could result from each move after Harry had made it, so that he learnt what to look for, and how to move.

Charles loved chess, Harry realised quickly, and Harry was already learning more about how to play than he had in five years of hanging out with Ron. He would learn a lot more in the months to come.

* * *

Please review!

Last updated Saturday January 7th 2006

WolfMoon


	5. Danger

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Five: Danger

After those first days, life slipped into a routine. Charles preferred, as most vampires did, to sleep throughout most of the day. Because Harry was around, and awake through the daylight hours, Charles had begun getting up around noon so that they could spend the afternoons and evenings together.

At the beginning of his stay, Harry explored inside a lot, and blessed the fact that he had attended Hogwarts – walking around the magical castle had taught him to remember things so that he could find his way back to where he had started. That particular talent helped a lot in the Potter Manor.

On his second night in the house, Harry met the first of the two pets that shared the huge building with Charles, the two servants and the two house elves. Charles seemed to like having things in pairs. Now it was perfect–there were also two Potters. He had left his bedroom door slightly ajar while he was in the bathroom, having yet another relaxing spa bath, and when he came out, wrapped in a warm bathrobe, he had found a dainty black cat curled up on his pillow watching him with amusement.

Hedwig had not yet returned from her long journey to London, and Harry was glad – his owl didn't much like cats. While she seemed to put up with Crookshanks, any other cat from the school that came near her was just asking to be screeched at. He wasn't sure that he wanted to find out what her reaction to a cat being on Harry's bed would be.

"Hello there," he had whispered softly, holding out a hand, gently curled so that it was halfway to being a fist, offering it to the creature to sniff. The cat had half sat up and sniffed delicately at the proffered hand, then had uncurled the rest of the way and stepped over to Harry, demanding scratches and attention.

For a long time, he had stayed awake, gently stroking the cat's midnight black fur, and when it had fallen asleep, he followed suit not long after, one hand still resting lightly on the creatures back. He would later discover that her name was Wraith, and that she had a companion, Spectre, who was as white as she was black, and who didn't seem to particularly like Harry.

In the morning, Harry was awoken by Hedwig's indignant hoot, and he opened his eyes to find her perched on the end of his bed, staring coldly at the feline whose back Harry's hand was still resting upon. Harry took his hand away and got up gently, trying not to disturb the sleeping animal, but Wraith opened a beady eye anyway, then stretched lazily and jumped down from the bed, slipping out of the door.

"Hey girl," Harry said to Hedwig, going over to stroke her as well, gently smoothing her feathers in the ways that he knew she liked, and hoping she would forgive him for being found with a cat. Hedwig gave another hoot, this time of pleasure, and offered him a note that was presumably from Dumbledore.

_Harry,_

_Leaving your relatives house was very irresponsible of you. The Death Eaters are out in force, as the Dementors of Azkaban. Two members of the Order of the Phoenix have already died all too publicly in recent times, not counting Robert, who died to keep you safe. You say that you are somewhere safe, but do you really understand the protections that are over you at your aunt and uncles? Please, take heed and return._

_I personally set up your protections there, and I know them better than anyone else could. Trust me when I say that you cannot possibly be as safe as you are there, wherever you are. Not even Hogwarts is quite as safe as the house of your relatives. I apologise if it seems that I am trying to run your life, but I must reinforce the lack of security across the Magical World. We have been making arrangements for you recently to try and make it safe to go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer – I know you have been restless at Privet Drive, and I am doing my best to make you more comfortable._

_I am afraid that I cannot simply allow you to remain where you are, without making any effort to find you. Voldemort's minions are more intelligent than I think you realise, and unless I can be certain that one as not tricked you, I cannot leave you be. The Headquarters have been moved, I feel I must also warn you, and I had greatly wished to make contact with you, as I believe that you can help us with our present difficulties._

_Even if I wanted to, I cannot call back the search teams, and I certainly cannot ask the Ministry to recall theirs. Cornelius is edgy enough at this point in time – the public are already starting to call for his resignation, and I believe that he sees finding you as being the only way that he could possibly regain their support. The longer you remain 'disappeared', the closer he will come to being forced to resign. He will not do this without protest, I warn you._

_Please, Harry, send word to the Burrow and let us know where you are. We will come to you and see if your current position is defendable, and do our best to make whatever security measures necessary. If we cannot secure your current location, then I will have to ask you to return to Privet Drive, or to the Burrow, if we have finished with our current arrangements by then._

_Yours truly,_

_Albus._

Harry read through the letter with a sigh, and wondered how he was going to reply to this missive. In the end, he decided to leave it till later in the day when he had some time to think about it, and could prevent himself from becoming angry and sending a very irate message in return. He knew that Dumbledore was trying to help, but he did not know how he was going to convince his Headmaster that he did not need his help at this point in time.

In the end, he replied with a short note informing Dumbledore that he had made up his mind and the Headmaster could do nothing to sway it, including a warning that if Dumbledore failed to abide by his wishes on this matter, Harry would not return to Hogwarts and would remove himself entirely from any dealings in the future.

Hedwig returned without a reply from Dumbledore, but as she brought notes from Ron and Hermione, he didn't mind so much. Both of them tried to ask him where he was, but he told them both not to bother, although he was forthcoming on everything else they asked of him.

He was a little saddened that he was unable to tell them what he was doing, and a little angry that they couldn't accept that he was doing what he was for the best. He had already resolved, however, to make sure that they knew he was coming into adulthood now, and deserved to be treated with the respect due to a mature member of the community.

The search parties hadn't been called off, Harry knew, because Charles had decided to subscribe to the _Daily Prophet_ for a time, to keep up with what was going on, in case he and Harry came close to being discovered. He said that he had not subscribed before because he found the paper to always at least bend the truth, if not completely ignore it, and disliked their presentation. He didn't like any newspapers, because he hated the lies that they told continuously, and Harry could only agree with him.

But at the moment, the _Daily Prophet_ was a necessary evil. If Harry should be discovered, they needed to know about it as soon as they possibly could so as to be able to take the necessary precautions to ensure that they were not discovered, nor was their position compromised in any way.

He was surprised to find, when he watched the television in his room that the Dursley's had filed a missing person's report, and that most of the Muggle world was on the lookout for him as well. There were stories of other disappearances and freak disasters as well, though Harry tried not to dwell on them.

The _Daily Prophet_ was reporting most of these as well, even though the victims were Muggles as often as wizards or witches. All of them led back to Voldemort, of course, and between the two sources Harry was able to find out more of the truth than either reported.

He also found the internet a useful tool. Like Charles said, if you looked for the right things, you could find out a lot more than you would believe. There were several Muggles who had managed to get their stories on the internet before Obliviators chased them down, as well as members of the Magical community – half bloods and Muggleborn's all – who had made their own WebPages.

He didn't use the internet or the computer all that often, although he did enjoy using it on those times that he did. He mostly used it, and the other news options, as a way of finding out if anyone was getting close to finding him.

But there was little danger in that eventuality, and Harry did not think of it very often. Once he was comfortable inside the house, he moved outside, and explored the grounds. It was, he thought, a perfect place to fly, which he had never been able to do much of in the holidays – he hadn't been able to fly most of the year before, and really wanted to get some practice before he went back to Hogwarts.

Although Charles had already assured him that he could fly at any time that he wished, Harry checked with Wilfred and learned at the whole property had various concealing charms set up to cover the eventuality of a Muggle seeing something out of the ordinary. It was, he was assured, perfectly safe to fly whenever and wherever he chose – as long as he didn't pass over the boundaries of the estate.

Delighted with the knowledge that he could fly as much as he wanted to, Harry spent the mornings on his broom more often than not, only returning indoors when he was exhausted, after spending hours soaring over the property. He was enthralled by the feel of the air rushing through his hair and roaring in his ears, the knowledge that he was travelling at speeds great enough to rival anything.

Although he would have loved to have had the chance to play a game of Quidditch with his friends, or just fly with someone else, he managed to have a fine time anyway. He loved to dive from tremendous heights, watching the ground hurtling towards him at speeds that would have killed him had he impacted, only to pull at the last moment and swerve away, climbing steadily until the air grew thin and cold, and made him cough for breath, driving him back down towards the earth.

Oh, how he had missed this. He hadn't realised just how much he had missed flying in the last year when Umbridge had forbidden it to him, and stolen his broom away. He hadn't been able to fly much the year before either, when the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been going on, but now that he could fly again, he fully understood the injustice that Umbridge had done to him, exactly what she had deprived him of.

When he was flying, he felt more alive than at any other time he could remember, and only up here could he completely let go, and forget about Cedric, Sirius and Voldemort, and just be himself. It elated him, knowing that, and he knew that never again could he let someone take the gift of flight away from him.

When the weather was foul, he remained indoors and read books from the huge library, watched television, surfed the net or just sat and petted Hedwig or Wraith. Slowly he was making his way through various histories, mostly those on the reigns of various Dark Wizards, looking at the mistakes that had been made in the past, and being astounded at how similar they were to those being made now.

_Learn from the past_, an old saying floated often into his mind, when he read these books, and he couldn't help but think that Wizarding society hadn't done very well at learning from _its_ mistakes. He wondered if the Muggles were any better, which drove him to find books on _their_ histories, and he learnt, to his dismay, that they were very alike. No one ever did seem to learn.

He realised, during these hours, something of what Hermione must feel. She always wanted to know things, and she wouldn't rest until she found them out. To Harry, reading had become an interesting pastime, now that he had found books that were less dry and boring than those that Professor Binns usually assigned to his class, but, he thought, to Hermione, reading was a way of life.

That was something that Harry would never be able to fully understand, because it could never be that way for him. Reading was interesting, if you found the right books, but he would rather fly. While he wandered through the various histories, he hungrily devoured all the books on Defence Against the Dark Arts, hexes, jinxes and anything of that ilk that he could find. But he did understand what Hermione felt more than he ever had before … and he wondered if she thought that the same about him and Ron flying–after all, she wasn't much of a flyer …

He spent long hours on those wet, windy days copying down passages from Defence books about spells that he wanted to try out when he got to Hogwarts. He didn't know how many books he would be able to take with him, but he hoped that he could take several of them.

Just as interesting as flying and the books he read was Charles, with whom Harry hung out with all afternoon, talking about anything and everything. In many ways, he felt more at home with Charles than he did with any of his friends from school, simply because the vampire _knew_ what Harry was going through, and everything that Harry wanted to talk about, Charles had experienced and could give some form of advice on.

But Charles didn't throw his opinions, views or experiences at Harry the way many would have, he let the boy talk, put everything into his _own_ words, before talking about his own experiences in similar matters. Harry found this very helpful, and he was supremely grateful to have Charles in his life at this point in time.

He also found that the temper that had writhed like an angry beast inside of him all through the past year or so began to lessen. Charles was a calming influence. He didn't try to manipulate Harry, or treat him like a child. With Charles, Harry was a complete equal, and that was exactly what he needed. The more time he spent with the vampire, the more in control he was of his emotions.

"Charles, how did you cope with losing everyone, when you were first turned?" Harry asked one afternoon not long after he had arrived, as the pair of them ate lunch in the customary room. It was something that Harry had been to ask for awhile, but which he had avoided until now, wondering if Charles would take offence at his asking.

"I … went mad for a time," Charles said delicately, after a momentary pause. Harry looked at him incredulously. It was very hard to picture the competent, down to earth, controlled and very formal Charles Potter going _mad_. "Don't look at me like that Harry," Charles said, amusement in his voice. "I tried to kill the one that had turned me, tried to go back to my family and live a normal life, and when I realised that was impossible, I tried to kill myself."

"Wow," Harry remarked, awed by the revelation, "But, you told me that it's against vampire rules to turn someone without permission, so weren't you expecting it?"

"That rule has not been in place forever," Charles replied quietly, an old pain reflecting in his voice. Harry wondered if he shouldn't have brought the topic up, but he had, and that was that. "When I was turned, vampires turned who they wished, fed from whoever they could find, and killed whenever they wanted to. Since then, things have changed a lot, and for the better in my mind. No one should have to endure what I went though.

"I never forgave the vampire who turned me for doing what he did, even though I came to enjoy being a vampire after a time. Losing my family was the hardest thing that ever happened to me, and to this day I grieve for them. I loved my wife, and she loved me. We delighted in that love, and our children were the result, and they were twice beloved. I was torn away from them before I truly got the chance to know them. I laughed when Valen was killed by vampire hunters in the seventeen hundreds."

Harry gave a sad smile–he supposed he knew what Charles meant. Hadn't he and Sirius been torn apart before they truly got to know one another, to learn all there was to know about each other, and to form the family that they both desired? He knew that he would be happy when Voldemort died.

Of course, _he_ was the one who would have to kill Voldemort, and that might overshadow the defeat, when it came about. He wouldn't let himself consider the other alternative, which was that he would lose. There would be time to think of that later, when the final battle came about. And Voldemort was a slightly bigger problem than the vampire that had turned Charles would have been … Voldemort was threatening an entire nation, not only a select few individuals.

"After I regained my sanity, I put as much distance as I could between myself and those I had known, and tried to forget about them. It didn't work, and it was a very painful process to try and go through, one I would advise that you didn't try it. These days, when I lose someone I have befriended, I try to think about the good times I had with that person, and give them a place forever in my memory," Charles added. "I have learnt from the past, and while it never stops hurting, at least it doesn't hurt as much."

Harry gave a slight nod. "I'll keep that in mind," he said softly, his mind full of problems that no fifteen year old boy should have on his plate.

---

Albus Dumbledore was furious.

And that was putting it lightly. His watchers had lost Harry completely, and then there was the note that Harry had sent him. How could the child possibly know the dangers that he was in? Albus knew them, knew them all too well, and he had been looking for them and preventing as many of them as possible.

He was sure that Harry had somehow fallen under the control of their enemies. In his right mind, Harry would surely see reason and return to his aunt and uncles. He thought that Harry understood the blood protection that was over him there, but perhaps he did not after all.

Most of the Order was out looking for him. Surely they would find him soon, and then he would be able to take whatever precautions necessary to prevent such an occurrence from happening again. He also wanted to talk to Harry about Sirius's will and find out whether Kreacher would be passed on to Harry as well, and he wanted to clear that up as quickly as possible.

One thing, however, was certain. Wherever he was, Harry needed help, and Albus had to get it to him somehow. Unfortunately, with Voldemort back, finding Harry could not be Albus's top priority. The Wizarding world couldn't afford for that … but they couldn't afford to lose the child either. They would _never_ be able to afford that.

With a sigh, Albus turned his mind from Harry Potter and considered what he was going to do about Fudge and the rest of the Ministry of Magic. If Harry wasn't found_ very_ soon Fudge would be forced into resigning, which Albus did not consider being a bad outcome. He just wished he had more information, and that he could discover who would become Minister when the position became vacant.

Right now, unfortunately, he could only hope that it would be someone who understood about the Order of the Phoenix, open to his own suggestions, and above all, someone who was not under the control of Lord Voldemort. "Hurry home, Harry," he whispered, "The world needs you safe … and so do I."

---

Three weeks passed and Harry hardly noticed. His body quickly adjusted to the new routine, just as his mind quickly came to appreciate the place that he was now in. The huge meals and lots of exercise – mainly flying – were benefiting him greatly, as Charles commented on several times.

He was growing more. Last summer he had put on a couple of inches, and in this last three weeks he had shot up again. The abuse that he had done to his body while grieving for Sirius was slowly being healed by the care that was lavished upon him in this house.

He had met the other house elf, a male by the name of Jinty, and got on well with everyone. He had found a place for himself here, one that he hoped he would never lose. He was surprised how much he regarded these people he had known such a short time as his family, but each of them had their own place in his life, and each of them did everything they could be make him welcome.

Lucy, short, stout, robust Lucy was a cross between a mother and an older sister, an older woman who he could go to talk about those things which he could not entrust to another male, a shoulder to cry on without shame, someone who gave comfort, and who would be comforted in return should she ever require the service.

Wilfred, who loved to fly almost as much as Harry did, quickly became an older brother and after awhile joined Harry in his flights whenever his duties spared him. At first it had been odd to see the older man's face lit up with the joy of flight, and leave his role as a servant behind, but it had quickly become natural. Although he had not been gifted with very strong magic, Wilfred was a flyer, and at that he excelled.

And Charles. Charles was father, mother, sister and brother all rolled into one, a man who Harry could trust with anything, talk about anything with, and delight in spending time with. He sometimes found it hard to believe that one person could fulfil so many roles, but he did, and Harry adored him for it.

He had more clothes to his name than he ever remembered having in his life before, most things the more formal attire that Charles generally wore, a tribute to the times that he had lived through and loved, but Harry was happy to wear them. They looked nice on him, and he liked the fact that it was one more link with Charles that he shared.

He did have some more 'trendy' clothes, in the style of the time, but he rarely wore them, unless he went out to town while Charles was still sleeping, to look around and get off the estate, which he did enjoy doing every now and then. If Charles did not accompany him, then Wilfred as always there, quietly watching over Harry and making sure nothing happened to him.

While the watchers from the Order had always seemed uncomfortably like guards, Wilfred was just _there_, a pleasant person to talk to and hang out with, but someone who would fade away when he wasn't required. When Charles didn't come with them, Harry sat in the front seat and talked about Quidditch with Wilfred.

The older man followed the sport with a fanaticism that rivalled that of Oliver Wood's, and he knew all the latest scores. Often Charles gave him days off to attend matches, although Harry knew that it was too dangerous for him to go with Wilfred, even if there were any matches on.

Not only might the Death Eaters attack, as they had at the only match Harry ever _had_ attended, but members of the magical community were bound to recognise him, and they would try and take him away from Charles and the life that Harry had found here. He wouldn't allow that to happen. Not even for Quidditch.

Throughout that time, Harry wrote occasional letters to his friends, letters which he knew that the Order read through before giving them to Ron and Hermione, who were now both at the Burrow. He said nothing of his whereabouts to them, although both of them asked him many times. He also found that he wasn't particularly upset at not being able to be there with them – he would much rather be here with Charles and the others.

He knew that it hurt them that he didn't trust them enough to tell them, but he didn't care. Now they knew what he had felt when they hadn't been able to tell _him_ anything last summer. They still couldn't, of course, but Harry knew a lot more this time around. He was reading the _Prophet_, learning all the new attacks as they happened, and while he didn't know what the Order was doing, he didn't really mind not knowing. He was happy enough with his life at the moment, and saw no reason to become angry over the lack of information on the war.

But things couldn't stay as happy as they were forever, and in mid July, two weeks before Harry's birthday, they took a drastic change, though for better or worse, Harry would never truly be able to tell, not through the entirety of his life after that point in time.

It was noon, and Harry had taken his seat in the dining room, as he had on every other day, waiting for Charles and Lucy to show up. In just another two weeks, he would be sixteen, and he was fairly sure that Charles was planning a party of some description, which would be exciting, because he hadn't had a birthday party before. Not many people would be there, but his new-found family would, and that was all that really mattered.

The door opened and Charles came in, followed by Lucy, bearing her tray of food. These days Harry ate as much as Charles did, which was a pleasant change from picking at his food and not being hungry at all. The rest of the day passed normally, Harry and Charles talked, Harry went for a quick fly and some reading, then bathed and went to have dinner and a game of chess with Charles.

As always, when he returned to his room and got ready for bed, he found Wraith curled up on his pillow, the cat and Hedwig staring at one another with dislike. Neither creature held any affection for the other, both seeming to think that Harry was _theirs_, and they could spend hours staring at each other like this.

Before he went to bed, Harry went over and petted Hedwig for awhile. He never had to feed her these days, the house elves came and went silently, taking care of Hedwig as well as Harry's dirty clothes and mussed up sheets. Holly had actually _scolded_ him once for making his bed, and asked if she and Jinty were not good enough to serve him. Since then he made a point of not making the bed, because that's what they seemed to want.

While the house was huge, most of it was unused, and they only had to clean most of the rooms out every couple of months, chasing away spiders, destroying webs and getting rid of any dust that might have had the audacity to settle since they had last cleaned out the rooms. They must enjoy actually having something to do in cleaning Harry's rooms on a regular basis.

Once he had appeased Hedwig's desire for attention, he turned out the light and retreated to his bed, pulling back to the covers and delivering the same attention to Wraith, before drifting easily into sleep, now so used to sleeping without having to face the terrors the night that he hardly thought about them any more.

The nights when he had awoken every night plagued by nightmares and a burning scar, which flared with pain under the power that flowed through the bond with Voldemort were fading towards a dim memory. It had been awhile since he had felt them, after all, and he was beginning to hope that they were gone for good.

However, those good times were not to last, and the moment that his mind relaxed fully into the embrace of sleep, gone was the warm blackness that usually enveloped him, gone was the delicious comfort of his bed, and in its place was a dark, cold room which reeked of a fathomless evil.

He recoiled with shock and disgust under the sudden change, and he felt the evil of the room trying to seep into his pores, draining away his energy and his emotions faster than any Dementor ever had. He nearly screamed, but stopped himself, and instead tried to fight the evil the way he would a Dementor, doing his best to call up happy memories and turn them into some protection, but nothing worked.

There was a concentration of darkness on the other side of the room and suddenly Voldemort stepped out of it, into the room, looking directly at Harry with a triumphant smirk gracing his lipless mouth, red eyes blazing with victorious light. It was the first time in any of Harry's dreams that Voldemort had actually known he was there, and that scared him. This was something new, and it was _dangerous_.

"So, Potter, this is where you've been hiding," Voldemort hissed at him, "Well, I've found you now, and there is no way you can escape. You are trapped here, Potter, and nothing on this earth can save you now! This place will feed on your powers, you emotions, your soul, until there is _nothing_ of you left, and all your power will be mine, your body mine to do with as I please … I hope you enjoy knowing what's happening to you even as you die … Know that your death will make me stronger than I ever was before! All that you once loved will soon be destroyed! You cannot escape this time Potter!"

Then, he was gone, the memory of his evil laughter ricocheting around the walls, and Harry was alone in the evil room, feeling his powers slowly draining away from him, helpless to do anything to stop him. But he tried–he would not give in without a fight, damn it! No way was he going to let Voldemort win easily, even if defeat was seemingly inevitable.

---

Watching the young man sleep, the cat Wraith observed changes in his sleeping pattern. His heart was beating faster; she could hear it, bumping blood and adrenaline through his system, his breath was coming faster, more urgently, and a sheen of sweat graced his brow, as his expression morphed sudden from peaceful to terrified.

Although she loved being in his company and being petted, Wraith also knew that she was looking after her new human, and that she had to get the Master if it looked as if he needed help. She could not imagine what was wrong with him, but she could feel the badness of it.

Immediately, she leapt up and off the bed, shooting across the floor of the room and out of the door, darting gracefully through the hallways of the house until she came another door, left ajar, and sprang through it. Inside the library, Charles was pouring over his many books, as he often did to pass the time, and at first he did not notice his company.

Then the black feline took a flying leap, landing elegantly on the table and mewing loudly. Immediately, Charles snapped the book shut and sprang to his feet, "Something's wrong with Harry?" he asked, and the cat mewed again. Immediately the vampire was moving, darting through the corridors with a speed greater than any normal being could hope to accomplish.

Her duty done, Wraith padded slowly back to the bedroom of the young human who scratched so well, knowing that the master would see to it that the child was alright. She had trust in the master, and that trust had never been unfounded in the past.

In Harry's room, Charles was beside his young ward in a second, accessing the magic that all vampires possessed instinctively, Blood Magic, to discover what had happened. What his magic showed him terrified him completely, but his mind immediately started searching for solutions, even though his heart was heavy with the knowledge that there was only one thing that could save the child now.

---

Trapped in that room of fathomless evil, Harry knew that he was losing his final battle. Steadily, his will was draining away, all the emotions that he had felt were leaving him, making feel like an empty husk. It frightened him, more than he could say, and he fought harder, although he knew that Voldemort had been right; the battle was already lost.

But he refused to give up, even if defeat and death were inevitable. He refused to go out doing anything other than fighting tooth and claw for his freedom. And even now he had hope that something, _anything_ would happen, that he would be saved, even at this late moment.

Suddenly there was a flair of pain, racing through his body like a shock wave, and the black room was dissolving, the evil slowly, unwilling giving up its hold on him, but the pain was so severe that he forgot about his fight. Then the room seemed to fade away. _This is it,_ Harry thought, defeated and exhausted, _I'm dying, and Voldemort has won._

* * *

Please review!

Last updated on Saturday January 7th 2006

WolfMoon


	6. Life Has Never Felt So Good

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Six: Life Has Never Felt So Good

For almost a week, Harry tossed and turned, coming close to the brink of waking up, only to fade back into the deepest recesses of unconsciousness. Through those endless seven days, Charles stood by, never sleeping, rarely eating, doing everything he could to lift his young ward from those dark caverns of the mind, and bring him back to the light.

And slowly the boy responded, his cold flesh warming gradually, his breathing easing into a more regular pattern, the pink roses of health returning to his cheeks, though he was paler, somehow, than he had been before. Charles had ordered the curtains pulled shut, blotting out the light of day entirely, so that he was undisturbed while he tended the boy.

Throughout that time, Lucy came by often. She would bring food, warm cloths to rest on Harry's forehead, or just words of comfort and hope. With her help, Charles battled against the darkness that was taking over his mind while Harry continued to be unresponsive to all attempts to awaken him.

Charles had allowed himself to get closer to Harry than he had to anyone else in over a century, thinking that surely the boy would not leave him any time soon.

But perhaps his judgement had been too hasty. He wondered if perhaps he was at fault for Harry's current condition. But no … if he hadn't intervened, Harry would have died anyway … the boy would wake, and all would be well. He just hoped that it would be soon. And this had never happened before.

As he sat there beside Harry's huge bed, noting the way that Harry seemed even more washed out than was natural because of the bright colours around them, bleaching his already pale skin to a deathly white, Charles sighed softly. The bedclothes were warm reds, as were the walls and the hangings around the bed, and the bright flowers that Lucy had gathered had been set around the room as well, so that it would seem more welcoming when Harry finally awoke. But the whole effect only highlighted how pale and thin Harry seemed at the centre of it. Tenderly Charles' delicate hand stroked back Harry's fringe.

"It's long since time you woke up, child," he murmured. "We miss you, and we want you returned to us. Please, come back to us. We love you."

Harry's eyelids fluttered, then opened a crack, and the boy's mouth worked for a moment, before he managed to speak, "love you too," he whispered, voice hoarse with misuse, and then his eyes closed again, and his breathing slowed. He was asleep again, but this time it was a deep, healing sleep. No longer was he held prisoner by the harsh unconsciousness that had plagued him.

He softly rang the bell in Harry's room, summoning Lucy, "He has awakened; the cycle is broken. He sleeps now, but it is a healing rest," he told her when she came. "Bring food, lots of it. He will need it after so long without."

Lucy nodded, and hurried away, and Charles returned to Harry's bedside, and waited for him to awaken properly. There was much that he needed to talk about with the boy, and none of it was anything he wished to discuss. He told himself that his actions had been for the best, but had they really? Had he perhaps been selfish, acting on what was best for _him_, not Harry? He could not know, not for sure.

He had done the only thing that he could have, that much was certain. Lucy returned with steaming food piled high on a silver platter, which she left at Charles' direction on the bedside table, before retreating from the room at Charles' request. "I need to speak with him first," he said to her. "I will summon you when that is done. Be ready."

She looked into his eyes and must have seen some of the torment he felt reflected there, because she nodded without protest and left. When he returned to the bed, he found Harry stirring, the scents of the food wafting through his nose, calling to his starving belly, and summoning his body to awaken again.

His body was weak, and he needed Charles's help to sit up, propped up on his pillows. Charles had to help him eat too, by cutting up anything that required cutting, for Harry's arms were not up to the task. Harry could manage to lift the fork to his mouth, chew and swallow the food, but his hand shook alarmingly. As he ate though, his arm steadied, and he did not stop eating until all the food was gone from his plate.

When Charles set the platter aside, Harry looked after it longingly, as if wishing for more food, but there would be enough food later on … for now they needed to talk. "We have much to discuss, you and I," Charles remarked, and Harry looked at him, nodding slowly.

"I was in a dark place," he said, voice wavering, then firming again. "It was _evil_. Voldemort came to me, and he said that the place would steal my powers and destroy my soul, giving them all to him instead, and that when my soul and mind were gone, he would take over my body and use it for his own purposes." He shuddered slightly, thinking how close he had come to that fate. Then another part of Voldemort's speech came back to him, "He said he knew where I was, he's going to find us."

Charles looked at the boy, and was alarmed by the lack of reaction these words seemed to cause in him. Harry's voice was without much emotion as he said this, yet Charles knew that discovery was one of Harry's greatest fears, and a week ago, Harry would have been going frantic with worry over the remotest possibility, yet here he was, speaking as calmly as he might about a painting on the wall, or a news article he had read.

"He won't," Charles assured him softly, choosing not to address this issue as yet, "He can't. There is no way he could find you. I _assure_ you that this is the case. You know I wouldn't lie to you." Harry nodded slightly, before continuing his explanation as to what had happened. Although he knew much of what had gone on, Charles let the boy talk, knowing that it would make some things easier for Harry to understand later. The boy needed to come to his own conclusions about what had happened to him.

"But, just before I would have given in, I felt pain. Pain greater than anything I'd ever experienced. At first I thought it was death coming to take me … but then I realised, it was helping me. Do you know what it was, Charles?" Again, Charles realised, there was little emotion in what Harry was saying. He chose words that might encourage emotion from those he related the incident to, but as far as Charles could tell, his voice held little inflation that could be taken as emotion, and his face was smooth and still.

"Yes, I know," Charles said softly. Harry looked up, hearing the pain and guilt that filled Charles's voice, and he knew immediately what had happened, easily putting things together in his mind.

"You turned me, didn't you?" Harry demanded, still without any inflection, which worried Charles further. Harry found his reaction strange as well. He would have thought that he would be a screaming wreck, knowing that he had been turned by a vampire, knowing that life as he knew it was about to come to an end … but somehow he couldn't summon any particularly strong emotion, either positive or negative.

He had become fascinated by vampires, after staying with Charles for some time, and more than most other non-vampires, he understood the race. Their powers had attracted him greatly since Charles had first revealed the scope of them, and many where powers that Harry would be greatly interested in learning to use, but had always previously been put off by the thought of being made a vampire in order to access them. Now, it seemed, that choice had been taken away from him – the only thing that he could do now, he supposed, was to make the best of it.

For a moment Charles paused, before speaking again, "Yes … and no. To become a vampire, all of your human blood must be replaced with vampiric blood, this used to be done all at once, in older times, but that was risky, and now it is done in several stages, safer for both the turner and the turned. But it is possible to give only a small amount of blood, making someone only partially vampiric, and that is what I did to you. It was still wrong, for it required me to both feed upon you and to begin the process of turning you with neither your knowledge nor your consent … but it was that or watch you die a most awful death. If you wish to blame me, I will accept that. I wronged you greatly. But even if you hate me now, Harry, you must remain here, so I may teach you our ways. Otherwise you will surely die. I will not speak in my own defence."

"I do not blame you," Harry said, gently, and Charles let out his breath in a sigh of relief and amazement. "I would have died, and there would have been far worse consequences if that had happened … But what does this mean for me? You said that I am not fully vampire … but nor am I fully human, is that not so?"

"It is," Charles replied, trying to approach the situation with his usual calm, infallible attitude, although if he was surprised that Harry was taking it so well, he did not mention it. "You are more human than vampire, but your body will be stronger, your eyes will see a lot better, although the light will hurt them more. Your skin will burn easier than most and you will be able to move with more grace and speed, though not as much as a full vampire."

"But I am weak," Harry pointed out, "You said it would make me stronger."

"You will also need to take a small amount of blood to survive," Charles said heavily. "Very little, and not very often, but you will need to, or your body will fail, just as any of ours would. The smallest sip, every month or so, will more than suffice, although if you take more, your vampire qualities will become easier to access."

"I see," Harry said softly. This had always been the thing that had driven him away from vampirism in the past, and yet now he found that he had almost forgotten about it. Somehow it didn't seem as bad as it once had ... but he still didn't like the idea too well, "What if I don't want to drink?"

"There is no help for it," Charles replied, "You know that, Harry. You have heard the story of my own turning, know the lengths that I, and many others, have gone to, to try and avoid this. If you do not drink blood, you will die in the next couple of months. There is nothing anyone can do for you. That is why it is a crime to change someone before they are ready to be changed, especially someone as young as you."

Harry nodded. He did know. He had been trying to avoid it, because while it didn't seem utterly repulsive, as he knew it once had, it didn't seem particularly attractive either. And he did not want to die – anything had to better than that. "I know I must drink," he assured Charles, who looked worried by Harry's attempt to deny what would be one of the main factors in his continued existence. "I wish it were not the case, but there is no help for it."

Charles nodded. "I know Harry. I'm so sorry." For a moment, they were silent, then Charles went back to explaining what would be different for Harry now that he was partly vampire. "You will live a little longer than others of your kind. If your life is not ended abruptly, old age should not take you for another five hundred years," Charles added, hoping to point out more good sides than bad.

Harry shook his head, "I do not blame you Charles," he repeated, "I know you are trying to avoid the subject of my drinking blood, but it is something that we must address now. I am obviously too weak to hunt now, and the thought of invading someone's home to drink from them seems … wrong, somehow."

"Lucy and Wilfred, I'm sure, will be more than happy to help you out there. You will need to drink only a very small amount of blood, and I'm sure that they will be able to provide that much for you. I cannot feed on only them because I must feed more often and must take more than you would. But for your purposes, I believe that they will be perfect. They would not be doing anything other than extending to you a service which they already award me."

Even this got through to Harry's emotions, even though it did not arouse as forceful a reaction as it might have. "I don't want to," Harry said immediately, even though he knew that he would end up doing so anyway, because he did not want to die.

"You must," Charles said evenly.

"I know," Harry assured him. Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door, and Lucy looked in.

"I hope I'm not distracting you, Master Charles, but you have guests arriving in an hour's time," she told him. Guests, Harry wondered … what guests were there? Vampires, probably.

"You aren't," Charles assured. "Please come in."

Lucy was only too happy to do so, coming straight in and giving Harry a warm hug. Then she stepped back and looked at him, seeing a strangely hungry look in his eyes, which seemed slightly reflective in the soft light that managed to find its way through the curtains. She knew what it meant, and turned to Charles, "You turned him," she said softly. Not a question, not quite an accusation, but a statement of fact.

"Only to the extent needed to save him," Charles said softly, "Though even that is inexcusable."

"Poor child," Lucy sympathised. "You'll need to take blood now, if you want to grow strong … you may take some of mine, I give it to you freely."

Harry looked at her. Now that she was in the room he could _feel_ the blood that pumped in her veins, and it made him hungry. He realised with a start that his canines had lengthened and sharpened slightly. He looked at Lucy and saw not only his older sister cum mother, but _food_.

Her offer tore through his starved mind, the thought of food was almost too tempting to question, but the realisation that she was offering, that she was need to offer, was distantly dirty, revolting. But she was holding out her wrist, hovering just in front of his mouth, the veins there pulsing with blood, an offering that he did not have the willpower to refuse.

Guided by instincts that he didn't fully understand, and had never had before, Harry lowered his mouth to her wrist, fangs tingling slightly in anticipation. His two fangs gently pierced the skin, seeking blood, which washed into his mouth, and he swallowed convulsively. A part of mind told him he should be repulsed by what was doing, but it just felt too good, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but relief at his hunger being fulfilled. It was the first proper emotion he had felt since awakening; _satisfaction_.

His body, so weak when he had first awoken, was taking strength from the blood that was flowing from Lucy into him, and he revelled in that strength. His feeling of hunger abated as the blood washed down his throat, and then, slowly, he released her arm, his canine fangs shortening again into normal teeth.

And he realised what he had done. He had drunk the blood of a woman he considered his family, and he had enjoyed it. That was the only part that he didn't like, the faint traces of enjoyment that lingered with the satisfaction. "I'm sorry," he said to Lucy, feeling that he should be getting more emotional about it all, but unable to do so.

Lucy looked at him in sympathy. "I'll leave you two to it," she said, then looked at Harry, "Remember, I gave you permission," she added to him, hugging him gently around the shoulders before leaving the room.

Charles leant over and embraced Harry, who hugged him back tightly, burying his head against Charles's chest, needing the reassurance of someone who understood him. He felt like he should cry with the emotions that should be filling him, but instead, he just relaxed in the comfort, and the emotions faded.

"It'll be ok Harry. Here you are surrounded by those who understand you, who love you. Lucy and Wilfred are more than used to donating their blood to me, and they will be just as happy to help you. You have nothing to be ashamed of here. It will be a lot easier for you than it was for me."

"How so?" Harry asked, as Charles released him, leaning back against the pillows. They had never really talked that much about the way vampires had behaved before they had come up with laws to govern their lives. Harry knew only that these laws existed, and that they hadn't always existed. Mostly they had talked about all of the legends about vampires, as Harry questioned which ones had actually been true. Very few, as it turned out.

"In my time, vampires were feared beyond measure, and with good reason. Vampires were violent, monstrous; they had no morals and existed to do what they willed. I was one of a select few that _did_ have morals, and that made it hard for me. I had no one willing to let me feed upon them – the idea would have been unthinkable to the people of my time. I had to survive as best I could, running from anywhere where I might have once had friends, so that there was no chance of ever attacking someone I cared about.

"They were hard times, but eventually I found those who could help me. A small group of vampires who, like me, did not follow the general pattern and do what we pleased in the world. That group decided that things had to change, that vampire society couldn't go on the way that it had been.

"Together, we did the unthinkable – we hunted down our brethren and killed them. Those who had no morals had be destroyed for the good of the world. People _hated_ the vampires, and I certainly couldn't blame them for that hate. There were more vampire hunters in that time than there were at any other point in history. That was only about five hundred years since vampires had first come into existence.

"The Hunters were wiping us out, the good vampires along with the bad. They would not stop until the killing did, and the killing would not stop until every one of those old vampires was dead. While we killed off those who would never submit to any kind of boundaries, we began asking those we thought might accept it they would like to join us, and leave the old ways behind them. We only asked those who we knew had morals, who wouldn't act as our colleagues once did.

"And in that way, we built up the society of vampires again. For awhile, I think, humans believed that we had been wiped out, because the killings had come to an end, and the hunters vanished as if they had never been. But eventually, of course, they realised that we were still out there.

"My friends and I became the Vampire Council, and it was us who saw that every vampire obeyed the laws that we had passed to try and make ourselves less feared, although we always will be. There are always mistakes, and some who become vampires never should have been turned. They are dealt with by whoever finds them first – us, or the Hunters. Eventually, we made connections with the Ministry of Magic about magical vampire hunters, but ties were never strong. The society of vampires is a more welcoming place now than it was when I was brought into it."

"Cool," Harry said, eyes wide. "So you're one of the top vampires?"

"Something like that, although I left the Council to be run by others after a time," Charles smiled at him, "Although I am proud to consider myself one of the saviours of our race, one of the pioneers of our changed society, although I am the only left of our original group." Harry grinned back. Already he felt a little better. Although the thought of drinking blood vaguely disgusted him, he knew that as long as he never drank without permission, he would be able to live with himself. Most vampires needed to hunt, because they could not find enough blood from those willing to help them every time they needed it.

He was one of the lucky ones, he only had to drink on infrequent occasions, and he knew that on those occasions, all he had to do was ask either Lucy or Wilfred and he would receive what he needed. It would be easy enough to keep his slight vampiric traits hidden, because his body wasn't _lots_ stronger than it had been, and he did not have skin as sensitive as the other vampires did. The _other_ vampires–he was one of them now.

Now he really belonged here, he supposed. "I think it's about time you got up, Harry," Charles said softly, "Have a shower, get dressed and come meet me in the library, there are more things that you need to know, now that you have become one of us." Harry nodded, and Charles left.

When he stood up, Harry could feel the difference in his body. While he had always been reasonably fit, now his muscles felt stronger than ever, and he felt as though he could run for miles if he wanted to. Energy pumped through his veins, making him want to _do_ something, but there would be time for that later.

He showered thoroughly, scrubbing his skin until it turned red in protest, trying to clean the remembered evil from that room off his skin. It seemed to linger, hungrily, not far away from him, and it scared him. If he cleansed it from himself, maybe it would go away entirely.

But it did not, so Harry left the bathroom, neatly dressed and not feeling _quite_ clean, and went to find Charles in the library, still feeling that sense of aliveness that enthralled him so much. Charles was pacing when Harry arrived, and looked up with a small smile when he saw the young man in the doorway. "Come along, time to take you somewhere you won't have been before," Charles beckoned, and Harry followed him through the shelves until they reached one of the back ones. Charles removed a group of books, and, after making sure that Harry was standing close to him, pressed the back of the bookshelf, which suddenly rotated, leaving them in a completely different room.

Although the room was fairly dark, Harry found that he could see perfectly. It was almost completely bare, save for pedestal in the exact centre, over which a blood red stone was resting in mid air, pulsing brightly every second or so. "What's _that_?" Harry asked, feeling somehow drawn to it, and stepping forward a pace.

"_That_ is my Blood Stone," Charles replied, "Or rather, _one_ of my Blood Stones, because I have two. Blood Stones are used to store a vampire's power in some ways. This is my other one," Charles reached into a pocket and drew out a ring, on it was a small red stone, which, like the larger one in front of Harry, seemed to pulse gently. Harry remembered having seen it before, when Charles was actually wearing it. He had never paid it much heed before, but now it sang to him.

"When you drink blood, it replenishes your cells and keeps them strong. It also gives you a lot of excess energy and power. In the past, vampires would simply exercise a lot and cast powerful spells to work off all the extra energy, but that meant that they used up the blood they had taken faster, and needed more.

"Then one of our brethren, well before my time, discovered the Blood Stones. They can draw out most of the excess energy, and as long as they are with you, they will feed that power slowly back you as yours starts to run out. The pulse becomes slower as the need for new blood becomes stronger, and when there is a minute long gap between pulses, you need to replenish your energy. It means that we do not have to feed quite so often. Also, in the case of an emergency, a vampire can call on the Blood Stone's power and use it to work Blood Magic, which strengthens his own power. You should not use it for that except in cases of dire emergency, however."

"So I need one of these?" Harry asked.

"You do," Charles replied, "And it is the duty of the vampire who turned you, in this case me, to provide you with one." He walked over to the hovering Blood Stone and rested his hands upon it for a moment. Suddenly the surface rippled, as if it had turned to water, and a small drop separated from it, before it returned to solid stone again.

Charles drew for his pocket a thin gold chain, and a golden jump ring, which he carefully slipped through a small hole in the top of the new stone, then treaded both onto the chain, murmuring something soft under his breath, and then handed it to Harry. "Wear that always. It's charmed to never get lost, or break, and if anyone ever tries to take it from you, it will give them a scorching they'll never forget," he explained.

Harry took it and fastened it deftly around his neck. It hung low, and he tucked it beneath his shirt, hiding it from view. Immediately he felt some of that heady energy begin to fade away, as the stone shone brighter and pulsed rapidly. Harry and Charles looked at each other and smiled. "You are bound to me now, Harry, in ties that go beyond ordinary blood family. I turned you, and that is another tie between us, and I gave you a Blood Stone, which cements that tie.

"If there was ever any doubt that you were unsuitable to be my ward, or me to be your guardian, that is gone now. We belong together."

Harry liked that, _we belong together_. Now he really _did_ belong here, and that was something that he had wanted all of his life.

Now he had found it, and he was satisfied.

They left the room, and Charles replaced the books that he had taken from the shelf, before leading Harry to another part of the library, one that he hadn't noticed before, and taking down a thin, black hard cover book and handing it to his ward. There was no writing on it anywhere that Harry could see, but when he flipped it open, there were words written across the page in a firm hand.

"This is a book that all vampires must read. It tells you everything there is to know about us," Charles told him. "It will explain your powers and everything else. There are more parts to that book than you could imagine, and each of them will come and go at some point while you read it, depending on your circumstances and what you need to know."

"Thank you," Harry smiled, "I'll read it very soon."

"It's evening now, and you might want to go and out and have a fly, I'm sure you've missed the experience," Charles remarked. "There are some vampire friends of mine coming tonight, and I would like to talk to them before they meet you."

"You've never introduced me to them before," Harry pointed out. Charles had had several vampire visitors before now, and always before Harry had been instructed to remain in his room, or elsewhere in the house.

"Before you were not part vampire," Charles replied, eyes dancing slightly, "They have a right to meet you now, and you to meet them. I certainly won't stand in the path of that right, in fact, I think it would be beneficial for them to speak with you, and vice versa … you shall have to start meeting a few more of our brethren now."

Harry nodded. "OK. I'll go for a fly, call me when you want me to come in." He left, going via his room to drop off the book and pick up his broom, heading outside and breathing in the fresh air with a sigh of relief. When he was up in the air, he was thrilled again by the feeling of freedom, and the fact that up here he could escape from the feeling of that vile room that still seemed to haunt his thoughts, and hovered not far away from him.

The block against his emotions did not withstand his joy of flight, and for some time, while he swooped and dove, he was truly happy for the first time since waking up. All of his problems were left on the ground beneath him while he soared.

For over an hour he entertained himself up there, happy as he always was when he could fly, and he hardly noticed it getting darker and darker, until no normal human would have been able to see anything. He could not see _very well_, but he could see well enough, which was all that mattered to him, and when Charles came to call him down, he was by no means ready to land again, although he did.

"Come on inside," Charles said, "My friends will meet with you now."

"Who are they?" Harry asked.

"The members of the vampire council," Charles replied.

"So they're as old as you are?" Harry asked.

"No, as I said before, I am the only surviving member of the original council, and while I no longer fully involve myself in the affairs of the council, they usually call on me fairly often, to see what I think of plans. The reason I have lived this long is that I keep out of the public eye, live my life mainly here on my estates, or travel around the world in search of entertainment when I grow weary of looking at the same place every day," Charles replied. "By not harming any vampires, or killing any humans, I can live without suspicion and no one will seek to kill me, which is all to the good."

"OK," Harry said. "What are their names?"

"There are three people here, they are Julia, Anne-Marie and Roberto," Charles replied. "The council itself is far bigger, but they only ever send me a few representatives at a time, because otherwise they will draw attention to me, which I do not want. They know who you are, and are anxious to meet you. I have told them a little about you."

Harry nodded, and they walked inside. This time they went somewhere that Harry had never been before, except for a glance in when he was exploring. The main dining hall, which was very large, was still not nearly equal the Great Hall at Hogwarts, although it would never be used for informal meals. Inside, around the large table, were there people, two women and a man.

Each of them had the appearance of a vampire, and Harry could somehow tell that they were different to humans, although he wasn't sure what told him this … it was no visual difference, although, when he looked again at the vampires he could see those as well … something inside him told him that their blood was different, and it was not to be taken; they, like Charles, were not prey. All of them rose when Harry and Charles entered, walking over to greet Harry with smiles and hand shakes.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter," the woman who introduced herself as Julia murmured to him. "And a greater pleasure still to meet you here, and to know that you are of our blood. Welcome."

Each of them said something similar. Apparently they all knew who he was, and they were all delighted that someone so famous had joined their ranks, even if it had not been completely willingly. He doubted that he would have become a vampire if he had been in any other circumstances, but he did not want to die, at the _very_ least not until Voldemort was gone.

"The reason they have come here tonight will interest you, I think, Harry," Charles said. "Voldemort has approached the vampires saying that he wants an alliance with them, and they have come to ask my opinion on the matter."

"You can't seriously be considering it?" Harry said, looking at the vampires, shocked beyond belief that they could be.

"Why not?" Anne-Marie asked, "He will grant us freedom, something that Ministry of Magic never has. Oh, they smile and say that they are our friends, but unofficially, they all condone the hunting of vampires and the training of vampire hunters. They would be happy if we died, and will not raise a hand in our defence, even if we asked for it. The Dark Lord has told us that he will grant as the freedom to eat when we wish to, and to have places of our own and respect in his new world, when he makes it. It is a tempting offer."

"We would not kill, we do not want to do that, but it would be a blessing not to have to hide in the darkness as we do now. A lot of the vampires are sick of hiding, Charles, and you know it. After a century or two of hiding from everyone, living apart from everyone, never able to feed without the fear that we will be caught … well, morals start to mean less and less."

"If you joined Voldemort," Harry said softly, "It would not be the _alliance_ that he claims. An alliance is between equals, and Voldemort does not believe that he _has_ equals; there is only himself, and those who are lesser than he is. He doesn't want alliance, he wants servitude."

"Really? You would know a lot of the Dark Lord, wouldn't you, Master Potter?" Julia remarked softly. "You are, after all, his enemy. Would you not have every reason to speak against our allegiance with him?"

"Yes," Harry said coolly, "But I know the truth of how he behaves. I've seen him with his followers – he calls them his 'family' but it must be a very twisted one. When they do something that he dislikes, he tortures them. I was once told that Voldemort shows as much mercy to his followers as he does to his enemies – none."

"You have seen this, you say?" Roberto asked. "Well, if you've seen it … I was never in favour of this alliance. Tell us, what do you think will happen if we accepted?"

"Most likely you would find yourselves pushed into killing whenever he told you to; he would find some way of controlling you. When you had killed everyone he wanted you to, he would most likely dispose of you, in case you became a threat to him," Harry shrugged. "I don't know for sure, of course, but from what I've seen of him, it does seem likely."

The vampires looked between one another, then they sat down again, Harry and Charles this time with them. "Voldemort has no morals – look at what he did to me, trying to kill a one year old baby. The destruction he caused in his last reign of terror still haunts most people today. He will destroy anything and everything that gets in his way," Harry said, looking around at the vampires. Charles nodded.

"You agree Charles?" Anne-Marie asked.

"Yes," Charles said simply. "I do."

"One might argue that although there would be destruction, after it order would come," Julia remarked, looking Harry over with interest.

"There can be no order with Voldemort," Harry insisted. "He will not rest until the world is in ruins. Eventually, I am sure, he would be the only person left alive on this planet, if he had his way."

"Would you be so kind as to allow us to speak in private for a moment?" Julia asked. Harry nodded slowly, and left the room, wondering if he had been over the top. But the vampires _couldn't_ join Voldemort-that would put the Dark Lord at too great an advantage.

A while later, Harry was called back into the room.

"We have one question for you, before we take our findings back to the Council," Roberto said calmly, looking at Harry, who could see troubled thoughts in his mind.

"What question?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord claims he will grant as equality. Whether he can or not is irrelevant, what would _you_ offer us, Harry Potter?"

* * *

Please review!

Last updated Saturday January 7th 2006

WolfMoon


	7. Choices

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Seven: Choices

"_What would _you_ offer us, Harry Potter?_"

Robert's words echoed in his head, as his mind went black. What could _he_, alone, offer the vampires? As far as he could see, nothing … he was only one sixteen year old boy, there was no way he could speak for the Wizarding world on something as important as this.

"_I_ can offer you very little," Harry said, "I have only my own voice, and I cannot speak for the rest of the Wizarding world. But if you don't join Voldemort, you have _my_ alliance, and my friendship. And with me, an alliance is what you will get. Voldemort will be defeated, especially if you help me.

"I do not request that you help the rest of the Wizarding world, given that they have treated you badly in the past. I have some amount of fame, as you are all aware, and now I am more than sympathetic to vampires, I am one of you – at least partially. I do not ask that you join the Wizarding world, only that you join _me_ against Voldemort. When he is gone, and the wizards see how you aided me, I'm sure that I can convince them to change the laws that you chafe at.

"I will not promise you anything solid, but I will promise you my aid in anything I can give it in," Harry added, looking around at them. "You have only to ask, and I will do my best to deliver."

"Well spoken," Charles murmured in an aside to Harry, and then turned his attention back to the Vampires. "Did Voldemort, when he came to you, ever admit that it was possible he could be defeated? If he is, then aiding him will get you in more trouble than you are in already. If you aid Harry, together we can defeat Voldemort, and as he said, it will put us in better standing.

"Whatever the decision the Council, know this. _I_ side with Harry, whether or not that is against the vampires."

Harry turned and smiled at his ancestor, relieved beyond measure to have his support, and Charles's words meant more to Harry than almost anything he had ever heard in his life before now. "I'm sure we will hear the Council's decision soon enough, till then, I do not believe that there is anything else that we need to discuss," Charles added.

"We will convey your words to the council," Julia said faintly. "I'm sure you will be one of the first to hear when the decision is made. Thank you both for your input, we will go and report now."

"Farewell," Charles said mildly, and the vampires left hurriedly.

"I think they will agree," Charles said softly. "You spoke well, and chose your words with care."

"Thanks," Harry said, looking down in embarrassment. "I only said what was in my heart – I _couldn't_ let them side with Voldemort!"

Charles laughed, "Always say what is in your heart, Harry," he advised. "It will stop you becoming a politician who lies as easily as he breathes. If you speak your heart, you will appeal to hearts, and that will give you power that comes only from the good."

"I'm not _going_ to be a politician," Harry replied, "I wouldn't want to turn out like Fudge. It's too easy to become corrupt, history has proven that."

"All famous people are politicians, whether they want to be or not," Charles informed him. "Eventually, you will discover, it is easier to be a political figure and keep events happening the way you know they need to. But you're only fifteen, nearly sixteen, you don't need to think about that yet … but you would do well to consider it. You _have_ power, whether you want it or not. It is your choice whether or not to use it, of course. By the way, this came while you were unconscious – I believe it's your OWL results," Charles handed Harry a thick letter bearing the Hogwarts seal.

"Must be," Harry said, taking the envelope with a happy smile. "Finally! I wonder I how I did …"

"If you open it, I'm sure you will find out," Charles pointed out, and Harry rolled his eyes, opening the letter and taking out of the content, of which there was a _lot_. Harry looked at one of the sheets, which had _Subject Selection _written on the top. He guessed that most of the parchment in here was about subjects, and hunted through until he found the one that said _OWL Results_.

Lifting it out, he read quickly through the official looking document.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Congratulations on achieving your OWLs. The Department of Education is delighted to be able to provide you with your examination results, and your school (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) has included a list of the courses you will be able to attend next year, based on your results._

_After this year, your compulsory attendance at school is not required. Should you wish to leave Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and instead move into the work force, simply send a message to your school informing them of your decision._

_These results, along with those for your NEWTs, and your assignments through the year will be paramount to your success in your chosen after school career. We hope that you chose wisely._

_Signed,_

And then followed a long list of signatures from all of the ranking members of the Department of Education. The next sheet contained his actual results, and Harry flipped to it with baited breath.

_Charms–the student has achieved an Exceeds Expectation grade in the practical examination, and an Exceeds Expectations grade in the theoretical examination. The student has overall received an Exceeds Expectations grade in this subject._

_Transfiguration–the student has received an Exceeds Expectations grade in the practical examination, and an Acceptable grade in the theoretical examination. The student has overall received an Exceeds Expectations grade in this subject._

_Herbology–the student has achieved an Exceeds Expectations grade in the practical examination, and an Exceeds Expectations grade in the theoretical examination. The student has overall received an Exceeds Expectations grade in this subject._

_Defence Against the Dark Arts–the student has received an Outstanding grade in the practical examination, and an Outstanding grade in the theoretical examination. The student has also received a bonus mark. The student has overall received an Outstanding grade in this subject._

_Potions–the student has received an Acceptable grade in the practical examination, and an Exceeds Expectations grade in the theoretical examination. The student has overall achieved an Exceeds Expectations grade in this subject._

_Care of Magical Creatures–the student has achieved an Exceeds Expectations grade in the practical examination an Exceeds Expectations grade in the theoretical examination. The student has received an Exceeds Expectations grade in this subject._

_Astronomy–the student has received an Acceptable grade in the practical examination and an Exceeds Expectations grade in the theoretical examination. The student has received an Exceeds Expectations grade in this subject._

_Divination–the student has received a Poor grade in the practical examination and an Acceptable grade in the theoretical examination. The student has overall achieved an Acceptable grade in this subject._

_History of Magic–the student has received an Acceptable grade in this subject._

_Overall, the student has achieved:_

_1 Outstanding Grade_

_6 Exceeds Expectation Grades_

_2 Acceptable Grades_

Harry read over all this several times, letting it all sink in. He had actually managed to get an Outstanding grade, which was pretty good by his standards! But he hadn't managed to get one of them in potions. Harry's heart fell a little at that. Well, he supposed that it couldn't really be helped – he had never had all that much hope at passing Potions anyway … But dreams died hard.

He pulled out the other documents, sliding thoughtlessly into one of the chairs at the table and spreading the documents across the table. He found one of them that said which courses he could apply to attend, and read through it. There were a lot more subjects offered for students this year, he quickly realised.

Up the top were the subjects that he had done in his years so far at school, and what courses he could do.

_Charms – Advanced or General_

_Transfiguration – Advanced or General_

_Herbology – Advanced or General_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts – Advanced or General_

_Potions – _Advanced

_Care of Magical Creatures – Advanced or General_

_Astronomy – General_

_Divination – General_

_History of Magic – General._

Next to _Potions_, there was a note from Professor McGonagall –

_Potter, I have managed to convince Professor Snape to accept you into his class, but this comes with added requests. You are to attend weekly after-hours potions lessons with Professor Snape, as well as hand in an extra essay each week for each one that you did not get an Outstanding in last year, and if he does not feel that you are performing on-par with the rest of the class, then he reserves the right to remove your from his class at any given time–if you get an Outstanding in the examinations at the end of your sixth year, then in Seventh year none of these conditions will continue to apply. If you fail, you will not be allowed to continue in the subject._

_Good luck in your career Potter, I've done what I can for you,_

_Professor M. McGonagall._

Harry beamed – despite the fact that he had not once been able to get an Outstanding in any of his assignments the previous year, he still felt that he now might _possibly_ have the chance to become an Auror as he wanted to. He half-wondered if the only reason Snape had agreed to let him into the class was because the Potions Master believed that Harry would not be returning to school in the new term.

Well, Harry would surprise him! He supposed he should probably try and work on his Potions essays through the holidays, and make them as good as he possibly could, so that he could hand them in as Snape requested without too much difficulty. If he wrote to Hermione, he was sure that she would have a record of all the assignments that they had been asked for the last year.

"Good news, I hope," Charles remarked, and Harry jumped slightly. He had forgotten that Charles was still in the room.

"Yeah," he said. "In some ways … in some ways not. I really want to be an Auror," he had told Charles this several times since they had met, as well as confessing that he didn't think he would do well enough in Potions, "And I only got an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, but Professor McGonagall was able to convince Snape to let me into the class anyway – I'll have to work really hard, but. He's not being fair, but that's not surprising."

He showed Charles the letters, and Charles seemed impressed with Harry's results. "You did very well," he said softly, "And I am very glad for you, since you are able to get into all of your classes. Perhaps you would do well to start working on those assignments before you return – you are, of course, welcome to take as many books from my library as you would like when you return to school."

"Thanks," Harry said, and meant it. He had never had someone tell him that they were proud of him before, and he decided that he could grow to like the warm, happy feeling that these words created. Even though he hated Snape and didn't like potions much better, he really wanted to do well enough to continue the subject. He wanted to be an Auror bad enough that he would do his best, despite the fact that Snape would be anything but fair about Harry being in his class. "I was going to start the assignments anyway."

Charles smiled. "Good boy," he replied. "Now, would you like me to advise you on the other courses that you should take? Apart from Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, of course. Those are prerequisites for you to become an Auror, but you have the option of taking two more classes, and you are advised to take at least five classes."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that," Harry said with a smile. Charles nodded. "Then shall we withdraw to the living room for Chess, and then have a look at what the options are? It is always best to approach these things with a calm mind, after all."

"I'd be glad to," Harry returned, and packed up his things, back into their envelope before leaving the dining room and walking with Charles to the living room for a long-delayed game of Chess, which they both enjoyed. Although he always lost–or as good as did so, anyway, for Charles sometimes lost on purpose, to make Harry feel a little better – he enjoyed the fact that the game gave him a chance to think on something that wasn't part of his already far too hectic life.

Chess was good for sharpening the mind, and looking at a situation in order to see as many potential possibilities as he could. It would be good training for later in life, he thought, since it was always good to look at any given situation and think of as many outcomes as he could, then chose the best one under the current circumstances.

Charles often referred to Chess as a game of life, and Harry was beginning to understand what the vampire meant by that. Once the chess game was done, they settled down over the long lists of possible subjects that Harry could choose, and started by eliminating those he would definitely not be doing. Divination was at the top of that list, predictably enough.

It was early in the morning before they had decided on a list which Harry was happy with, and he went back to his room to write back to Hogwarts with his selections.

_Professor McGonagall,_

_Here are my selections for the next two years at Hogwarts. Thank you very much for talking to Professor Snape and arranging for me to be able to take Potions next year. I will do my best, and try not to disappoint you._

_Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts_

_Advanced Transfiguration_

_Advanced Charms_

_Advanced Potions_

_Political Studies_

_Thank you again,_

_H. Potter._

Political studies at been chosen at Charles' insistence. Harry hadn't really wanted to take it, but Charles had pointed out that not only was Harry famous and therefore deeply imbedded in politics whether he wanted to be or not, but he wanted to be an Auror, and an Auror needed to be fully aware of the politics in a situation they were involved with. It was the latter argument that actually convinced Harry to take the subject.

Harry also enclosed a quick note to Hermione, letting her know that he had been accepted into Advanced Potions, telling her the conditions that applied, and asking for a list of all the assignments that they had had to do. He figured that she would be happy enough to help him, since it was helping his own studies.

"Hedwig, can you take this to Professor McGonagall? And this one to Hermione?" Harry asked his owl, handing the completed forms to his owl, who hooted softly and took it, soaring out the window and into the dawn light. Harry went his bed and collapsed without bothering to undress or shower as he usually did before sleeping.

The moment he lay down, he was out like a light. His body was more exhausted than he had believed it might be, for although he had been out for a week, it had not been a restful week. The vampire blood that was now in his veins had kept him going for a time, but he needed to recuperate.

---

Lucy woke him the late afternoon with food, and after waking, he couldn't get back to sleep, and decided to flick through the book on vampires that Charles had given him – he thought that it should prove interesting. He flipped open the first page and started to read, immediately becoming utterly absorbed in the text.

_The vampires were created by a Dark Wizard, with the intention of taking over the world with a group of willing, fearsome servants. Vampires were made to drink blood, the blood of his enemies. He gave them the ability to make others like them, so that his army would continually grow._

_But the spell went wrong, and when the first vampires were born, they were not loyal to him. They had their own minds, and they had no reason to remain with him. They killed him, and his human servants and drank their blood, having been born starving hungry. Then they escaped into the world to live for themselves…_

The first chapter referred to the creation of vampires and their abilities. It focused on what powers the vampires had been granted, how they were used and how they varied from vampire to vampire. Harry had known that his powers wouldn't be particularly strong, given the small amount of vampire blood that he had taken, now he realised that his control of Blood Magic would be so faint it might as well as be non-existent. Of course, if he spent a lot of time working on perfecting it, it would grow a little stronger, perhaps equal to the magic of a Muggle Vampire.

And he didn't even know what Blood Magic was about yet. The book hadn't explained it to him – apparently it was in one of the later chapters, but whenever Harry tried to flick ahead, he found himself on the same page he had tried to flick passed. He wasn't sure what was going on, but it was clear that he had to read the whole book, and not try to skip any.

So he was forced to read the book slowly, and it _was_ fairly slow going for him, since he wasn't nearly as fast as a reader as Hermione or some of the other people that he knew. He hoped that he would be able to finish the book sometime before he went back to Hogwarts, but somehow he didn't think so.

He only had a little over a month, after all.

Harry blinked suddenly – he hadn't really been thinking about it, but it was less than two weeks until his birthday now! He wondered what would happen. He'd never had a birthday party, after all, but he had wanted one for as long as he could remember, and he knew what Dudley's parties were always like. He wondered what birthdays would be like living with Charles.

---

Putting the book aside, Harry went to look for Charles, who he found waiting in their room with a Chess set and a pot of tea. When Harry came in, Charles handed him a second cup and gestured that he could pour himself a cup, should he want to.

He did, looking over the chessboard. The game hadn't been started yet, Charles had been waiting for him. "Did you know I was coming?" he asked the vampire.

"I thought you might," Charles replied. "I'm glad you did. We have more things to discuss, now that the business of the Council and your subjects for next year has been attended to. When you return to school, you will have to be careful. Although you have some vampiric traits, they should be easy enough to hide, as long as you know how to hide them

"To begin with, your eyes. You don't need your glasses any more, and people will wonder about that. I would suggest you tell them that you got contact lenses – and I think that we should get some for you, too. Not ones that correct your sight, but ones that will protect your eyes from the sun. These are a recent breakthrough in technology, but few wizards will know that, after all. This will deal with the problem of your eyes being sensitive to the light, and will ensure that no one sees the reflective qualities of your eyes. Although I would suggest that you wear proper sunglasses while actually in the full view of the sun," Charles explained, and Harry nodded.

"Sounds good to me," he agreed. "I've wanted contacts for ages, but the Dursley's certainly never would have got them for me … it never really occurred to me that I could buy them myself, because I'm used to relying on magic, rather than Muggle technology."

Charles smiled a little at that. "Yes, wizards do tend to advise this course of action. While at Hogwarts, it certainly is feasible, because technology doesn't work within the castle grounds, but I don't agree with the idea of continuing that even after out of school though. We need to learn more about the Muggle technologies, they would help our lives a lot, I think. If only the pureblood maniacs would realise that … but they are a lost cause, really.

"Also, you will need to disguise your extra speed and strength, which won't be so easy, especially playing Quidditch. Luckily, you are already very good at the sport, so people won't comment too much on that one … and if you avoid fights, or being asked to lift heavy objects, everything should be alright," Charles smiled. "I'm sure you'll be alright."

"I think I will be, I hope," Harry replied, grinning. "I don't usually get into fights, so I think I'll be alright."

Charles nodded. "Good. Let's see … also, we have to discuss what you're going to tell your friends, and the Order, and the media, and everyone else, about where you've been this holidays. Everyone will be asking, and you'll want to have a story ready."

"Why don't I just tell them that it's none of their business? I left because I felt I would be able to act better away from Aunt and Uncle. I don't tell them where I went because I want to avoid drawing any danger here, and if the world knows where I am, then Death Eaters will probably attack, like one tried to do at Privet Drive. I left not long after that episode, after all. It's feasible enough," Harry said thoughtfully.

"And what about your friends? They will want to know the truth, and they will tell you that they won't tell anyone else if you just let them know," Charles pointed out, and Harry thought again.

"If I tell them that I can't tell them, they should respect my wishes," he said. "I won't go any further than that, no matter how often they ask me."

"You think you can do that?"

"It's better than telling them the truth. Even though they are my best friends, they haven't met you, and they'll have all of society's ideas on vampires, and if I told them, it would only worry them," Harry shrugged, then sighed. "It'll be hard, at first, but when they accept that I won't tell them, then they'll stop asking, and it'll be ok."

"Alright, I think it should work. You don't need to remember any complicated stories, or risk getting yourself caught in an open lie, because you simply refuse to tell them anything," Charles said. "The simplicity is delightful – simple plans are _always_ best."

Harry nodded. "So, anything else we need to discuss before we start our game?"

"No, I don't believe there is – we'll go into town tomorrow for sunglasses and the original fittings for contact lenses, and to see how John is doing with your robes for school," Charles replied. "White goes first," he added, and Harry moved a pawn forward two spaces, the game commencing.

---

The next day, Wilfred took them out in the big car and they went straight to the optometrist, who took many complicated measurements of various parts of Harry's eyes, and worked everything out with Charles, since Harry didn't really understand what was going on. The outcome was that the optometrist would need a week to make the contacts, and a considerable amount of money, and that he would call when they arrived.

"You have a telephone, then?" Harry asked as they walked outside, and Charles smiled faintly.

"Of course," he replied. "Like I said, I don't hold with the wizard idea that you shouldn't make use of things just because Muggles made them. After the laptop and television in your room, I would have thought that obvious. I've got a computer in my office, as well."

"I should have realised," Harry smiled, "I'm just not used to thinking of things like that any more."

"Which is entirely understandable," Charles pointed out.

Another stop, at a more 'trendy' shop, was for sunglasses. Harry chose a pair that were unassuming but looked good, and Charles paid the money for them immediately before hustling Harry out onto the street again. "I don't like shops like that much. The music is awful and I can't understand the current fashions at all."

Harry smiled a little at that. He had to agree, really. He'd never been much for clothing, after all, at least, not until he met Charles, and now he liked Charles' style, and was more than happy to wear that. It looked like he was now set to return to Hogwarts and pretend that he was the same person who had left, still a normal human being.

* * *

Please Review!

Last Updated Saturday January 7th 2006

WolfMoon


	8. Birthday

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Eight: Birthdays

Harry woke up the morning after the shopping trip feeling the residual evil from his dreams hanging around again. When he had slept that night, he had dreamed about the room that Voldemort had tried to trap him in. It wasn't the same as the time that he had _been_ trapped, but it still made him feel sick to his stomach.

He stumbled to his feet and made it into the bathroom before he threw up into the toilet. The evil had affected him far more than he had realised, he thought, flushing the toilet and washing out his mouth in disgust.

He needed to talk to Charles about this; perhaps he should have spoken out two nights before, but it had scared him, and he had wanted to avoid it, if he could have. But he couldn't, and he needed to find out what was wrong with him – he had realised that, since awakening, he had felt little or no emotion, even in cases where he should have gotten _very_ emotional about something.

It was clear that _something_ was wrong, now he just had to find out what that something was. Charles hadn't mentioned anything about a lack of emotions while dealing with being turned, in fact, Charles had described a growth in emotions and a lack of control over them. The exact opposite of what Harry was feeling. His book suggested nothing of the thought either, and he was running at a loss for other possible explanations. It had to have been something that had happened to him while trapped in Voldemort's evil prison.

Harry nodded to himself – he needed to talk to Charles. He would do that now …

Well, not right now, first he had to get himself cleaned up, because the feeling of that evil made him feel all slimy and disgusting, and he felt the need to be _clean_. He had to get it off his skin; maybe somehow he could just wash away the problems that had beset him since awakening.

It took him some time to clean himself to his own satisfaction, and again his skin was raw and pink from vigorous scrubbing when he had finished. He washed his mouth out several times, and before he left, he cleaned his teeth thoroughly and rinsed his mouth with a mouthwash to try and get the taste of vomit from his mouth, before finally going and seeking Charles out.

He found the older vampire in his office, somewhere that Harry had visited only once before. Charles had brought him here a while before Harry had fallen unconscious, so that he could find it if he needed Charles for some reason when the vampire was working here. Charles, when Harry pushed the door open, was sitting in front of his computer, scrolling down a screen with a dizzying array of numbers and letters. Harry could only assume that Charles was working on accounts of some description.

"Um, Charles?" he asked softly, hoping he wasn't interrupting something too important. Charles turned in his swivel-chair immediately, and seemed surprised to find Harry there, but the surprise was pushed away immediately as he rose to his feet. "Harry, is something wrong? You're all pale," he said, crossing the distance between them, concern written on his features.

"Yes," Harry said, sinking into a chair that Charles indicated, "You said I'd have to talk about what happened … and I don't really want to, but I guess I've run out of time, and I have to talk now. I'm still feeling the evil from that room, and it's making me feel sick – I threw up before I came here. And my emotions have been weird since I woke up … they don't seem to be there any more. I don't think that's supposed to happen after the turning, is it?"

"No," Charles agreed, looking worried, "Turning usually stimulates a heightening of emotional senses, making it harder for a vampire to react normally, and usually leading to tragedy for the newly-turned. I can only assume that it is something to do with the room itself.

"I suppose it is time for me to tell you what I know about the room – I knew what it was the moment that I saw what was in your mind when you were first trapped there. It has been used by the most powerful dark wizards for many generations now, although not in recent times. Grindelwald never discovered the key to this room, Ancestors be praised. It was built a long time before I was born, before vampires even came into existence. No one now remembers who built that dreaded place. It is hard to access and control, from what little I remember. That Voldemort can now access it is a worrying occurrence. Steps will have to be taken to disable it – there is only problem however: only one who has been trapped within the room, and has survived the experience, can destroy it."

"So I can destroy it … can anyone else?" Harry asked, but Charles was looking at him in such a way that Harry knew he was, once again, on his own. This must be something else that only he could do.

"No, no one else," Charles sighed. "There has been a prophecy regarding the room ever since it was created – no one has _ever_ survived before. You are the one who can finally undo the darkness that continues to blight our world. But it will take a lot of research, a lot of power, and a lot of _time_, which, more than anything, we don't have."

"So until then Voldemort can attack anyone he wants to with this thing?" Harry asked, "We can't let that happen!"

"I think it will be alright," Charles said slowly, "To operate the room takes a lot of power. Right now, I believe, Voldemort will be unable to do much magically, and until he recuperates and gains the amount of magic he needs again, we should be getting somewhere with it. Besides, the operator of the room can only attack people who you have a connection with – that's you, Albus Dumbledore and those others who have come face to face with Voldemort himself, and fought with him themselves. Very few of these people remain alive today, so there are few who are in danger. It is Albus who is in the most danger now."

"He can't die. The Wizarding world needs him too much," Harry said immediately. Whatever quarrels he had with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he knew that Dumbledore was a powerful man, and he had made a lot of things possible. To lose him would be a great loss for the entire Wizarding world. "I'll do whatever it takes to destroy this room, I swear it!" A tingle washed down his body, making the hairs on his arms and legs stand on end, and he shivered slightly – one way or another, he was bound to that promise now.

Charles smiled softly, sadly, at him as he said that. "Harry, you would want to be very careful what you swear from now on, particularly the manner in which you swear it. Because of your belief in the need to destroy the room, and your words confirming that desire, your innate ability with Blood Magic has bound you to your promise magically. If, when you swear something from now on, you actually state that you are swearing by Blood and Magic, it will bind you as strongly as an Unbreakable Vow. That won't happen otherwise unless you show particular emotional ties to the situation, but any promise you make could be very hard to get out of from now on in."

Harry blinked, but nodded his head, "I suppose that's understandable. At least I can't break my word even if I wanted to now – that's got to be a good thing."

"I'm very glad that you can accept all of this so philosophically, Harry," Charles smiled at him, "Although I would imagine that the room would have had a good deal to do with that, unfortunately. But back the room now … it will affect others, to a lesser extent. You felt its evil, and that evil is now loose in the world again," Charles continued, making Harry's heart sink.

"Voldemort does not truly control the room, now that it has been unleashed, even he is powerless to stop it – his only advantage is that he can harness its powers for his own use. The room is letting its evil seep out, and that evil will slowly infect the population around the centre of evil. In ever widening waves, it will spread descent, distrust and fear. It will demoralise those who are unprepared and unable to fight it."

"Then we have to prepare them!" Harry said forcefully, "We can't let Voldemort get that sort of grip on the world! Steadily it would give us ever less chance of actually beating him, if everyone is hiding in fear!"

"But we cannot. Over and over again it has been proved to you how happy people are to discredit anything that might be a threat to them and their perfect existences. The room is thought by many to be a myth, and nothing more, much as the Chamber of Secrets was for many years. That threat has since been proven real, and then neutralised, and in it's time, this one will too. But it will need time, and, as with the Chamber of Secrets, sacrifices will be made before anyone comes to their senses – and by then, most likely, it will be too late to help them in any way but destroying that which is dividing them."

"So we're screwed?" Harry asked tiredly; saving the world wasn't easy, and it wasn't getting any easier as burden after burden fell squarely on his shoulders. First he had found out that he was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, and now he discovered that he was the only one who could destroy the Dark Lord's latest play thing, which would completely destroy magical society unless he, Harry, destroyed it first.

"Not at all! Don't give up so easily. We are not 'screwed' as you so delightfully put it. We are merely challenged, but we will rise to meet the challenge in time, and overcome it," Charles said, smiling supportively at Harry. "And just because _you _have to be the one to destroy this evil doesn't mean that you can't ask for help.

"I will look through our library and see what I can find about it. Maybe there will be some useful hints to its nature recorded there. You will have to start reading up as well, because you must be familiar with it. We need to know what it was made of, and how, so that we can discover its weaknesses and exploit them. We will have to do this mainly on our own, because, as I said, the general population will be in no position to give us any aid. I believe you should warn the Order of the Phoenix upon your return to school so that they will aware of what is going on, and can combat it in their own way. Who knows, some of them may even be able to help you out. They will believe you, I'm sure."

"I hope so," Harry sighed. "I mean, they should. Dumbledore at least will listen, and he'll make the others listen. They know that I've been right so many times before, they'll listen to me now. And Dumbledore always believes me unless he has _very_ good reason not too. The only time he hasn't believed me was when I told him I was safe here … which I wish he would, but I guess I can understand why he isn't."

"Then we can hopefully count on their aid," Charles nodded. "That is good. When you get to Hogwarts, you will have to search the library and anywhere else you can think of for information regarding the room; they will hopefully have books that I have not managed to collect. In the meantime, we will look through our own library and see what we can find. Come, we shall begin at once!"

Fired with enthusiasm, the pair of them hurried off to search the library for anything to do with the room. They found very little. A couple of dark tomes that mentioned the room in passing in a couple of places, which they would read through completely to make sure they found every reference and one tiny book about myths and legends that had a passage on the room, which was supremely unhelpful.

_The Carcer de Malus, also known as the Prison of Evil, has roots that go as far back in history as we can discover. The very name has connotations of disaster. Legend tells us that only the most powerful and evil wizards can command the Prison, and even they must use a lot of energy to work the spell, which is intended to trap an enemy of that wizard within the room. Once trapped, the person will go through a process which results in the destruction of their soul, rather like the Kiss of a Dementor, however, rather than being an empty husk, the once-person will be completely under the control of the dark wizard._

_If the dark wizard is cunning, it can take a long time for the deception to be revealed. The controlled one is the perfect weapon – generally able to find out anything, go anywhere, without arousing much, if any, suspicion. Even when the deception is discovered, many times the friends of the lost one are unwilling to see to his or her destruction, believing that a cure might still be found._

That was all there was, and it was pretty obvious that the writer had not truly believed that the 'Carcer de Malus' was anything other than the legend he described it as. Harry sighed, nothing there, nothing at all. They each took one of the books on Dark Magic to read through, and returned to their room.

"And none of this gives us any hints as to what is wrong with my emotions," Harry sighed.

"Well, you must remember that you are the only person who has ever made it out of that place alive. But what we've read does suggest that what you have been experiencing was something to do with what you experienced in the room. The room has been likened to the Dementor's Kiss, and the effect of that is to destroy the mind and spirit of the individual. What remains after the Kiss is an empty husk, incapable of thought or emotion, and that was the process that Voldemort attempted to conduct with you. It didn't work, and the process was well underway by the time I rescued you-"

"Yes," Harry interrupted, "Just before I felt the pain of you biting me, I had rallied my strength for one final attempt to fight my way out. After that strength had been spent, I knew that I would die."

Charles nodded with a disturbed look on his face. "Yes, I reached you just before the very end of your tether. Who knows what damage could have been done to you before I got to you … I do not think that anything that happened to you would have been permanent, until and unless the process was completed. What has been done is to set you back a little in your emotions. You have less access to them currently, but I think that, given time and the right treatment, you will be able to access your emotions again."

"The right treatment?" Harry repeated slowly.

"It has never been done before, we are treading along new ground now Harry, but if you want to regain your emotions in full with all possible haste, we will have to use magical means to try and hasten the process. Within several years, I think you would have regained all the ground that you have lost, but I think that we could cut that time in half, and then possibly in half again, with a combination of spells and potions," Charles replied.

"But you don't know if those would work?" Harry pressed, "Because no one has gone through it before?"

"That is correct. Nothing would be trialled on you, however, unless I had thoroughly completed research and believed that there were no adverse effects," Charles assured him, "But Harry, your emotions are what make you who you are. To lose your emotions would be a crime beyond compare. I will not allow for that to happen. You _will_ regain your emotions completely as swiftly as I can grant that to you."

Harry nodded slightly, "I wouldn't want to feel like this forever," he agreed, "Is there any way of distancing myself from the evil that I'm still feeling from that room?"

"The residue evil … I'm sure that I can find some way of blocking that-" Charles began, but Harry interrupted him before he could finish.

"You've done it before, haven't you," he pointed out, as he suddenly linked a number of things that had occurred since meeting Charles, "Since I've known you, I haven't had any nightmares involving Voldemort, and I haven't felt nearly as depressed as I did before I met you, after Sirius's death," for the first time since his godfather had died, Harry found himself able to speak the man's name without his throat closing with grief. "You had something to do with that, didn't you?"

Chares froze completely for a moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly, "Yes … but please allow me to explain my actions further: you knew that you had some manner of protection by blood at the house of your aunt. That protection was Blood Magic, and the wards were constructed by Albus Dumbledore. He showed a remarkable ability in the subject for a human, I'll admit, but nothing near what I could achieve as a vampire.

"When I met you, you were in a state of almost complete depression. When you were attacked by Rodolfus Lestrange, who was, by the way, the man who attacked you that night, you did not seem to overly care what was happening to you. Even when I revealed myself as a vampire, your reaction was sadly lacking. You did not seem to be overly afraid for your own life, although you worried briefly for other lives. It concerned me.

"So I wove some extra layers into the wards of your house, wards that would further defend you from Voldemort, and would also ward off the depression that was slowly settling in on you. I would not allow you to descend to a point where you did not care what happened to you, and to stop that, I had to act. I acted without your consent, only because I was not sure if you would trust me to meddle with things in such a fashion, and also because I knew that if you were aware of the change in the wards, you would have acted against them. Knowing they were there, you would have tried to hold onto depression, because it was a comfort zone, as such.

"When you came here, I worked on similar wards, although much stronger, and more effective than anything you had experienced at your relatives place. You may not have been aware of it, but your depression was aided greatly by Voldemort, who has been sending many of the dreams that you experienced of your godfather, and was slowly trying to bring you to a point of suicide. He would have succeeded, I think if I had not stepped in."

Harry nodded slightly in understanding, "So you had to block his influence on my mind?" he asked, and Charles indicated that this was so. "Did that also entail blocking my dreams? Because I have not dreamed all that much since I met you either."

"That part of things was a lot harder," Charles admitted. "Because Voldemort was directly attacking you through your dreams, I had to act against that influence … the easiest way was to block your dreams completely, because differentiating between true dreams and ones from Voldemort was a difficult issue to address. I can remove that, if you wish … I would not have advised it before, but I doubt that Voldemort is in a position to attack your mind at this present time."

"Yes, undo it please," Harry said, "I like my dreams, when they're good ones. Perhaps it will help me with my emotions as well, because a lot of emotions come out in dreams. But if Voldemort starts sending dreams again, then it would be good to have the protection back, if I needed it … is that possible?"

"Of course," Charles said. "I will work on it, I think I've had an idea that will make the whole scenario a lot easier for all concerned and neater as well, but it will take some work, so I'll have to get back to you on that one … In the meantime, I'll simply remove the protections on your dreams."

"Tell me if you discover something," Harry requested politely, "Dreams are nice, but not ones with Voldemort in them. If I can have one and avoid the other, it would great. Just, don't do anything without telling me any more, will you?"

"Of course not," Charles replied. "I know you trust me now, and you will be able to understand much of what I would _want_ to do, anyway. Now that we trust each other, I wouldn't dream of doing anything without your explicit permission."

Harry smiled, and together they started reading the dark tomes that they had unearthed. For Harry, at least, the going was hard and unpleasant, for the books were written by dark wizards, and had many disturbing images and notations. Still, he struggled through, skipping over the gruesome bits if he was sure that they didn't refer to the Carcer.

After awhile, Harry retreated to his room to read other books, while Charles remained, flicking quickly through the pages of the book he had chosen to read.

---

The next two weeks passed in a reasonably happy blur for Harry, as his birthday approached. His friends had sent Hedwig back laden with gifts from them, all wrapped up with stern notes that he was not to open them until his birthday. He dutifully set them aside and waited for the appointed day. Hermione also sent him a list of all the potions assignments, and Harry had gotten started immediately, working long hours in the library, and planning to get Hermione to go over them when he returned to Hogwarts.

His contact lenses arrived, and he had taken to wearing them at all times. They made things a little clearer, because his eyes hadn't been completely fixed by the vampire blood, and his eyesight was the best he ever remembered it being. Besides, the light wasn't as harsh when he was wearing the contact lenses.

There was no regret in his mind when he threw his old glasses away, he had never liked them much, and the round frames hadn't really suited him, but they had been necessary, and in the end he had just forgotten about them most of the time. When he wasn't wearing his sunglasses, Harry often found himself reaching up as if to push his glasses up, only to discover that they weren't there, which felt very weird.

But he was growing used to them quite quickly, and it no longer felt weird inserting the lenses into his eyes each morning. It also made it easier to function during the day. Even inside, it was sometimes disturbingly bright for his eyes. Outside he had to wear sunglasses most of the time.

Charles was spending much of his time researching possible cures that had been used on those who were victims of the Dementors Kiss, or anything else that related to a loss of emotions. Harry wasn't sure how this was going, as Charles hadn't brought it up in a conversation as yet, and Harry had been unwilling to bring it up himself. As time passed, he found his emotions becoming weaker, and assumed that this was because the emotional instability caused by the Turning was losing its effect on him.

_This_ he had duly reported to Charles, keeping his grandfather up-to-date with what was going on in his emotional life. Charles said that very soon they would start doing some tests to see what was more likely to bring an emotion out of Harry. That way they could start acting in ways that inspired emotion, and that would hopefully begin the long, slow road to recovery.

They hadn't made all that much of an inroad on learning about the Carcer de Malus either, as neither of the books that they had found in the library told them much about it, other than that it meant Prison of Evil, which they had already known. Charles had ended up reading through the book that Harry was supposed to, because Harry couldn't read it. It was too disgusting.

"You'll have to read things similar to this when you get to Hogwarts, but perhaps it's best to let you have as much of a break from it as you can. It's not pleasant going, but it's not going to get any better when you reach school either.," Charles said with a sigh, "I think I'm going to have to make a trip to Knockturn Alley and see what I can uncover there …"

"That would be great," Harry admitted, "Any more information would be … would you be able to summarise it so that I can read over it without having to read about all of the nasty stuff?"

"That nasty stuff, as you so elegantly put it, holds the basis to understanding _what_ created the Carcer, if not how they did so. To understand the Carcer, you must understand the mind that created it, and you will do that by reading books such as those that you gave to me," Charles told him gently.

"But I couldn't read that!" Harry said, "It's just … not right."

"So you feel a definite negative emotion in association with those works?" Charles pressed, looking at Harry intensely, and Harry realised that he did … he hadn't thought about it that way before, but the books that he had read had awoken negative emotions in him.

"Yes," he said softly, "Yes I do …" then he saw the look on Charles's face and groaned, "You're going to make me read them aren't you?"

"I don't think I have a choice when I say that yes I will be," Charles said, "But perhaps not the most grisly of them yet. I'll get you started on some of the less daunting works. You _must_ understand the mindset of the person that created this place – but _only_ understand. The last thing we want is for you to develop the same mindset."

"I wouldn't," Harry said.

"With your emotions as malleable as they are currently, I don't think that we can safely make that assumption … on second thoughts, I don't think that it would be such a good idea for you to read books like these ones. We need to give you _positive_ influences, and encourage your emotions to take a more positive turn."

"So I don't have to read those books?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No, you don't," Charles said slowly, "Although I will also have to request that you don't read any of the accounts on battles for a little while. I want to find something more positive for you to read, I'm not sure what yet. We'll have to do some research into books that would help you out."

"What like romance novels and stuff?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose a little at the idea. He didn't really feel anything huge against romance novels; he just knew that it wasn't the usual reading materials for males of his age. He knew that for most of his life he had felt that it was somehow unacceptable for him to read such material.

Charles laughed, "Not necessarily," he replied, "Perhaps just life stories of people who have been working on doing good deeds despite opposition. I'll have a look around the library and bring some books for you to have a look over. We want to find something that makes you feel good, and happy, and other such emotions. If it makes you feel anything else, set it aside, and do the same if you feel nothing when reading them."

Harry nodded, "I can do that … but it seems a little silly really – how is reading going to help me to get my emotions back?"

"Reading itself isn't, we just need something that is going to continue to encourage positive responses on your part," Charles disagreed, "While I continue to work on finding something that will do more. You'll want to keep flying as well, because that makes you happy."

"I reckon I can do that," Harry said, "Are there any books in my room that I shouldn't be reading?"

"I'll take those away for the moment," Charles replied, "You'll need to keep your potions book, and when we get your school books, I'll have a look through them and see what is there. Now, to find something interesting for you to read in the interim … I know of a couple of biographies of Aurors that you might like to read. They focus on why the men and women involved have chosen to defend the laws and uphold justice."

"Sounds good, it's even useful," Harry smiled.

"That's why I suggested it," Charles told him cheerfully, "I'll ask Holly to find the book I'm thinking of, and get her to bring it to your room alright? I'm sure you're more interested in getting out and going for a fly, and under the circumstances I believe that would be an excellent pastime for you."

Harry gave a mocking half-bow, "I'm glad that my intentions meet with your approval, Sir," he remarked sarcastically.

Charles beamed at him, "That's what I like to hear! You've got some emotion in your voice – keep that up." Laughing a little, Harry turned and left, heading outside. His broom was in a shed outside, and he was looking forward to getting to it again. What he _really_ wanted was something like a Snitch which he could use to practice with. Flying was brilliant, but it would also be great to be doing something other than _just_ flying.

He had spoken with Wilfred about this, but the groundskeeper hadn't had much to say, only that there wasn't a Snitch on the property, or any other Quidditch equipment, for that matter. Wilfred hadn't gotten back to him on that yet though, but Harry figured that he would, given time. He just wanted something more to do – it would make him feel a little more useful.

His birthday was still approaching, and he was looking forward to that. Yet again he would not be able to spend his birthday with his friends, but at least this year, for the first time he could remember, he would be spending it with people who loved him. He was looking forward to the day, not so much for the emotions attached, but because it would signal his independence, and it would be interesting to go through the process of a 'fun' birthday.

He only wished that his emotions would be functioning properly so that he could enjoy it as he was supposed to. His first birthday away from the Dursley's, and it was let down by Voldemort's attempts to destroy him. While the event itself would not be ruined because of this, Harry would not have as good a time as he might have had otherwise. Dimly, he felt disappointed by that, but the feeling was only dim.

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to think about that right now. Right now, he wanted to fly. Harry took his Firebolt from the shed and kicked off the ground, leaping into the air and leaving all of his concerns behind him. His birthday would come when it came.

---

Finally, the night before Harry's birthday arrived. "Do you want to open your presents at midnight, or wait until morning?" Charles asked him, grinning, at ten that night, while they played game after game of chess to pass the time.

"Midnight," Harry answered immediately, and Charles laughed, nodding in approval. Harry knew that he spoken as much because that was what Charles expected him to say as because he really felt excited by the prospect of his presents. He was, of course, looking forward to finding out what they were, but his excitement was a paltry thing compared to what it should have been.

He had been reading the books that Charles had given him, and they were helping a little bit. Not as much as he might have liked, but they were making some difference to him, which was the main thing. Charles assured him that this was a step in the right direction, and that he was working on finding better solutions to the problem.

"Only two hours for you to wait then! Although I think you'll have to wait until morning for your presents from Wilfred and Lucy. I doubt that they are still awake, after all," Charles remarked, and Harry shrugged indicating that he could wait for their gifts until the morning.

Just before midnight came they went to Harry's room to open all of his presents, since most of them were already there. On the stroke of midnight, Harry opened the first present – one from Charles, who had got him two.

Carefully unwrapping the present, Harry uncovered a dream catcher, made with red leather around the edges and golden thread stretching across the middle like a spider web, with a small golden lion statue set in the middle, and the feathers of a golden eagle hanging from the bottom.

"Dream catchers have long been held to have the ability to 'trap' bad dreams and allow the good ones to slip through," Charles told Harry. "This one will also block out anything Voldemort tries to send to you. As long as it hangs above your bed when you sleep, you'll be safe. It'll block out bad dreams as well, as it is supposed to. Also, when you wake up, you can use the dream catcher like a pensieve, and view all the dreams that it caught the night before."

"Thank you!" Harry gasped, and gave Charles a very strong hug, which Charles happily returned, then waited while Harry climbed onto his bed and hung it up straight away. "I've been dreaming of Sirius," he confided. "The dreams hurt, and it would be nice to only have good dreams about him from now on. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome, of course," Charles assured him, "It is my pleasure to have managed to find a cure, for this problem at the very least. But remember, you still have the waking hours to fear – Voldemort can still try to get at your mind in those hours, and you will have to learn to keep him out. Vampire minds are stronger than humans, but Voldemort's magic is _very_ strong, so you would do well to see if you could continue to learn Occlumency."

Harry nodded, "I'll see what I can do. Maybe Dumbledore will teach me now … but somehow I think that he's going to try and make me learn from Snape still. Well, maybe this year things will be easier if I do have to learn from him. At least I won't lose my temper with him."

"Well, you can think about when you go back to school. Perhaps you are right, although I would be trying to feel emotional in that area – if you _can_ get Snape to annoy you, let him, I think it might even help, once you've had enough influence from positive emotions," Charles said comfortably. "But we don't have to think about that sort of thing. While you are here you are safe from Voldemort's prying during the day time, and now at night as well. Why don't you open your presents from your friends?"

Harry went for the combined present that Ron and Hermione had sent him. It was hidden inside a small, very heavy box. When he unwrapped he found a simple cardboard box within, and in that, an obsidian statue of a dog that looked exactly like Sirius in his Animagus form. It even moved, grey stone eyes flashing in light. Harry felt like crying, but, without thinking, he blinked the tears back. It was good to have something to remember Sirius by.

Charles looked at the tears that shone in Harry's eyes, unshed, and spoke gently, "If you want to cry Harry, do not hold it back. I shall never think less of you for it," Harry was smiling slightly as he stopped trying to suppress the tears and let them fall. Charles pulled Harry into a firm embrace and let him cry against his shoulder.

For a long time, they just that there, with Harry crying and Charles holding him, neither speaking. Charles knew all about Sirius's Animagus form, of course, Harry had told him rather early on in their acquaintance. As he cried, Harry couldn't help but feel that Charles was letting him cry to try because he was trying to get Harry to express his emotions.

Finally Harry pulled away and wiped the tears from his eyes. It was the first time that Harry had really cried since he had met Charles, and the experience was one that he had, in some ways, enjoyed. "Thank you," he told his ancestor, smiling a little.

"You're welcome. The last thing we want to do right now, with your emotions in the state they are, is to try and suppress them further. If you feel like crying, try to do so, and if you think you should laugh, laugh and be happy. Whether the laugh is real, or just you pretending doesn't matter. The fact that you are reacting is enough." Charles assured him, smiling back. "Now how about the rest of those presents, eh?"

Harry smiled and turned to the rest of his presents. There was also a huge amount of joke supplies from Fred and George, who informed Harry in a short note that they expected him to continue the tradition of his father and cause havoc in Hogwarts, even though they wouldn't be there to enjoy it. Harry laughed a little at that one.

Predictably, Molly had sent him a cake, a card that sang happy birthday and a new hand knitted jumper like the ones she usually made for him at Christmas. This one was plain emerald green, with no image, as many of the others had had. Despite the fact that it didn't at all with what he was wearing, Harry pulled it on. Charles smiled a little and told him it suited him.

Ginny sent him a note saying that she wanted to get him a present, but wasn't sure if she should, and enclosed a three galleon voucher for Quality Quidditch Supplies. Coming from her, and her family, three galleons was a _lot_ of money, and it would buy something nice from the store as well, Harry was sure. It was a pity he had finally bought some gloves, but he was sure that he would be able to find something. His broomstick polish was running out, after all.

Then there was only one more present from Charles to open. When he opened it, he discovered a new trunk – his old one was very battered, and had been hauled out of the Dursley's shed for him in ill grace. This one was new, and a lot more compact, but it had a charm that made anything you put in it fit, and had three compartments, magically hidden from one another. One of them had a lock on it, and Charles told him that the key was his necklace; all he had to do was touch the bloodstone against the lock, and it would open.

"You can put your clothes in one," Charles explained, "Books in another, and things that you don't want anyone to find, or steal, in the third. That way you don't end up with everything crammed into one place, which would, I'm sure, make things rather hard to find. You might want to put the book on vampires in the locked compartment; no one would be very impressed if they found _that_ in your possession. Also, your invisibility cloak and, I'm sure, one or two other things that are precious to you."

"Thank you," Harry said again, and gave Charles another hug. The trunk also had a Weigh Less charm on it, which, while it did remove theweight altogether, at least made it considerably lighter, so Harry wouldn't have trouble lugging it around. Inside, there was a new school bag as well, with the same charms on it, so that he could carry more books around to all of his classes without worrying about anything breaking.

Charles smiled, and Harry thought, a little bitterly, that the vampire was probably happier than he was … although he was feeling happier than he usually did; having received gifts from those he now viewed as his family. "Perhaps you should get some sleep. You'll have a busy day tomorrow, I think."

Harry laughed, figuring that Charles was hinting at a birthday party, which would be fun if it happened, and he nodded in agreement. "I think I'll do that," Harry smiled in return.

"Sleep well, dream good dreams," Charles told him, standing up and slipping silently from the room, while Harry quickly dumped all the wrapping paper into a bin under his desk – one of the house elves would empty that tomorrow, he expected. He had a quick shower, then went to bed, with Wraith curled up beside him, falling into a deep, restful sleep that was undisturbed by bad dreams.

He woke in the early morning, feeling more excited than he had since awakening from his ordeal in the Carcer de Malus. He was going to have a party! When he left his room, he was smiling a little, looking forward to finding out what was going to happen over the course of the day. He walked into the sitting room that he and Charles frequented, and found the vampire, along with Wilfred and Lucy, waiting for him.

"Happy Birthday!" they all yelled the moment he walked in, then broke into song,

"_Happy Birthday to you,_

_Happy Birthday to you,_

_Happy Birthday dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday to you!"_

The cake that Mrs. Weasley had made for him, along with one that was presumably made by either Lucy or the house elves, was sitting on the wooden table, along with a couple of lovingly wrapped presents from Lucy and Wilfred. They all embraced each other warmly, and then Harry was urged forward to make a wish and blow out the candles on his cake.

Harry stood over the cakes thinking about the various things that he could wish for, then decided on the one that was most important to him at the moment, _I wish that I could feel my emotions like I'm supposed to_, after discarding things like 'I wish Voldemort would fall over dead' because they seemed to be going a little over the top, really.

He blew out the candles in a single powerful exhale, and his family cheered delightedly, then Lucy handed him a knife and told him to cut the cake. Wilfred reminded him that if the blade came out dirty, he had to kiss the nearest girl, which it did, so he kissed Lucy's cheek, while Wilfred muttered that he should of have kissed her on the lips.

When they all had a slice of cake, they sat down to eat it. "So, how does it feel to be sixteen?" Wilfred asked him, smiling. Harry had heard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, along with all of Dudley's friends, asking his cousin this every year, but no one had ever asked _him_ that question.

He thought about it for awhile, "It feels good. I'm free now, and I can never be made to go back to the Dursleys," he said, smiling widely, and the group laughed happily, eating the cake contentedly.

"Now you have to open our presents," Wilfred said, handing Harry a box that said _Happy Birthday, from Wilfred_ on the top. Harry tore the paper off, and uncovered a Snitch. "It's so that you can practice with it for Quidditch next year properly," Wilfred said, and Harry hugged him.

"So this is why you never got back to me about it," Harry grinned at the groundskeeper, "I was just about to ask you again, you know! Thank you!" he gave the older man a hug.

"I thought you might be, but your birthday came before you could," Wilfred grinned back, "Perhaps we can play a bit later on."

Harry nodded enthusiastically and Lucy handed him her present, which turned out to be a diary.

"I thought that if you wrote all of your feelings in this, it would help you to make sense of them, and perhaps help you learn to feel again," Lucy told him, smiling. "I know that my diary used to be my best friend as a young girl. It made things easier for me to think about things sometimes. You can tell a diary anything you like, and no one will ever know. It's charmed to only open at your touch, by the way, so no one can steal it and read it. You need some privacy in your life, I think."

Harry smiled again, and gave her another hug. "Thank you so much!" he said to her, and then repeated the message for both Charles and Wilfred, even though he had already thanked them. He only wished that he could feel more happiness in the situation which should have been one of the happiest in his short life.

But he shook that mood off. He wasn't going to think of things like that on his birthday. It was a day when he _should_ be happy, and he was going to be, to the best of his ability! "Why don't you go outside and have a fly, test out that Snitch?" Charles offered. "I'll call you in later on!"

Harry nodded and raced off, calling to Wilfred to come and join him in a while. "I'll come in an hour or so!" Wilfred called back. "Let you have a go on your own first!" Harry hardly heard him as he raced outside, the snitch held in his hands and his eyes blazing with happiness behind his sunglasses.

The snitch was housed in a small box where it was restrained by a silver band of woven fabric. He gently unclipped that, and the snitch took off. Harry's hand flashed out, and his fingers closed around the ball with an easy grace. For a moment, as he watched the snitch struggling to break free, its silver wings beating uselessly against his restraining fingers, he remembered the memory he had seen of his father. The only scene from his parents' life that he had really been able to become acquainted with, and it was not particularly complimentary.

James, sitting under a tree, just letting the snitch go, then snatching it back without any particular concentration on his part while Peter Petigrew looked enviously on. Harry shook his head – he was not his father, and he wasn't a bully. He was good at Quidditch, and he had gotten some of James's traits, but he wasn't his father. He was himself.

He let the Snitch go again, and this time jumped on his Firebolt and shot after it, catching it again easily, then letting it go. Sometimes he let it go for several minutes before going looking for it again, but it never took him long to catch it again. Wilfred came and joined him after awhile, and they raced each other to find the Snitch and catch it, though Harry won most times. Wilfred was a good flyer, but Seeker wasn't his position.

Finally, they were called in, and back to the sitting room, where Harry found that the place had been completely decked out in decorations, with '_Happy Birthday Harry_' showing up in several places. There was more food, and music that he liked. They ate, and danced, mucked around, and generally had a good time.

While the party wasn't huge, it was _fun_. Harry didn't particularly like dancing, but with his family it was far more enjoyable, and he didn't feel stupid, like he usually did. He wished that he had had a birthday party before, but for the first one of his own he had been to, this one was _brilliant_, by his standards, anyway. Though there were many ways in which it could be better … but that was no fault of those who had organised it.

In the afternoon they went out to town to go to the cinema, which Harry hadn't _ever_ done before. Whenever the Dursley's went, he either stayed at home, at Mrs. Figg's house, or in the car. The movie was lots of fun, and they returned home in a state of ecstasy, and even Harry felt so happy that he wondered if it were a good thing his emotions were so damped – otherwise he would probably be so happy he would hurt himself. It was long past midnight before anyone calmed down enough to go to sleep.

* * *

Please review!

Last updated on Saturday January 7th 2006

WolfMoon


	9. Hogwarts Express

Someone asked me what I intended to do about a relationship for Harry – unlike previous stories, there will be a relationship developed over the course of the story, we just haven't met the girl in question yet. I'm afraid that none of the current females really work all that well with Harry, as far as I'm concerned, so I will be introducing a new character for him to get with … I THINK her name will be Katharine, but don't hold me to that!

* * *

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Nine: Hogwarts Express

Two days after his birthday, Harry received a letter from Hogwarts saying that he had been accepted into all of the courses he had chosen. The letter included a list of books he would need for the next year, so Harry wrote out a shopping list and Wilfred went into town to get the items on the list, as well as a couple of things that Harry had forgotten.

Harry didn't go with him because the Wizarding world was still searching for him, and they didn't want to tempt fate by letting him go into Magical areas too often. The letter also bore a note telling him that he had been made Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor, which made him feel very proud of himself.

"Obviously your ban has been lifted," Charles remarked, smiling, when Harry brought him the news. Harry nodded happily.

"Must be," he agreed. "I hardly thought that it would stay though, so it's not entirely unexpected … but it's going to be great being Captain! Although I'll be really busy, what with all the potions assignments I'm going to get, and everything else."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Charles said. "If you are struggling, however, let me know and I'll see what I can do, ok?" Harry nodded in agreement, knowing that Charles would take care of anything if he needed him to. He only had to ask – that sense of security was something that he valued as much as the company that he received here.

Not long after this, Charles was contacted by the Council and informed that the decision had been that they would stay out of the conflict for the moment. The vampires had told Voldemort that they would need time to decide on his offer, and that he would have to wait for his answer, until the Council formed a decision, which could take some months.

"Of course, they have no intention of joining with him," Charles told Harry, "But they are simply putting him off for awhile, until they decide if they want to fight for us, or if they simply want to stay out of it altogether. _That_ decision could take a year to make, so don't hold your breath, and don't count on their support. Most likely they will stay out of things altogether."

Harry had understood. If he had been able to stay out of the war, he would have, in a second! But that option was not open to him. He would certainly respect the vampire decision, when it was made.

He was spending a lot of time practicing with his new Snitch, as well as writing in his diary. When he went to Hogwarts, he wouldn't be able to talk to Charles as much any more, and he wasn't looking forward to that in the least. Now, at least, he would have his diary to confide in when he didn't want to, or couldn't talk to his friends.

His emotions were stable now, although unfortunately this didn't mean that they were functioning properly again, but rather that they didn't function much at all. The force of the turning was no longer upon him, and he was left with what should have been. Charles was still working on finding a cure, and while he did that, he was doing his best to only expose Harry to positive experiences.

They spent a lot of time functioning as a family, as well as going out to the movies and watching films that Harry knew where carefully selected by Charles in an attempt to meld his emotions into the desired form. Harry wondered if he should be angry at the manipulation – he knew that the manipulation that Dumbledore had been doing had sent him into a blind rage on at least one occasion.

But he did not feel anger, instead he felt gratitude, and after a short time, he realised that this gratitude was both because Charles was going to such lengths to help him, and because Charles was being open about the manipulation that he was doing. He did not hide for a moment the fact that he was ensuring Harry was not exposed to negative influences, only positive ones.

Harry could not dislike him for that. He _wanted_ this, and he knew it. He _hadn't_ wanted Dumbledore's manipulation, because that had not been undergone with his consent, and had happened completely behind his back. Charles's way was much better, to Harry's way of thinking.

But Charles was yet to find anything else that Harry could do. Harry knew that the vampire was spending much of his time in the library pouring over texts that might help, as well as attempting to find time to research the Carcer de Malus in itself. Harry couldn't say which he would rather have Charles do.

As well as flying and doing his best to spend his time doing things that would have a positive impact on his emotions, Harry spent a lot of time working steadily through the Potions assignments, doing the ones from the start of the previous year over again first off, then working steadily towards the end. With all the free time he had in the holidays, he was doing a good job. Charles was reading through them, as he had promised that he would, and he thought that Harry was doing very well.

Harry was glad of this – as far as he could tell, these assignments were a lot better than the ones he had done in the past, and he was starting to actually understand what they were talking about. Knowing what a bastard Snape was going to be in Potions in the coming year, Harry put aside his studies of Defence Against the Dark Arts and concentrated more on Potions. He read through the first few chapters of his text book for the following year, which was very complicated, and made Harry feel more than a little nervous.

Still, he was really going to try this year, and hopefully things would work out better than they had in the past, but he didn't have any particular hopes for that … he thought that he _might_ do alright, but with the Snape factor, he might not as well. Well, he would see how things turned out.

He was sure that things would be alright in the end, however. Somehow, they would be. He would only have another month to spend in Potter manor until Christmas time, and that would be several more months away. Therefore, he was determined to make the best of what time remained, even with the added work he had taken on.

He worked harder in the morning to have as much as possible done before Charles got up, spending hours flying, working on Potions, reading up on Defence Against the Dark Arts and Quidditch – if he was going to be captain of the team this year, he was going to have a lot of work to do.

He wondered if he should keep DA running, but eventually decided that he would see what the general feeling was when he returned to Hogwarts. He was going to be practicing a lot of duelling magic this year, and if the others wanted to join him, then they were welcome. Harry figured that school was going to be very busy this year, but at least he was getting a head start where Snape was concerned. That would take one pressure off the ever growing list of things he had to do.

As the month progressed, Harry found himself becoming used to the fact that his emotions weren't overlay active, and sometimes he felt that not feeling things so much might actually be a really good thing. Charles still made sure that Harry got as many positive experiences as possible, and Harry enjoyed that as much as he could. It made a pleasant change. He and Charles still talked a lot, about all the important things that were going on in the Wizarding world, but Harry felt removed from it all. No longer was he emotionally attached to the people, or their society. Charles and his family here were his foremost concern, followed by his concern for his friends, which wasn't as strong as it should have been. His scar no longer hurt him, the blood protection here was too strong, and Voldemort could no longer attack him through his dreams. There were no impacts upon him now, and he could live as though he had never heard of Voldemort in his life …

But he had. He knew it, and he knew he would have to face it soon.

Voldemort had evidently recovered somewhat from using the Carcer de Malus, for there were now reports in the _Daily Prophet_ of him being seen by those who survived the Death Eater raids, though these were few and far between. More often the only tales to tell were those of the wreckage, and the tortured bodies of the dead, found long after the Death Eaters had departed.

Harry read those reports from the _Prophet_, and distantly he knew that he should feel sorry for them, but he couldn't really _feel_ it. He remarked on this to Charles, who sighed with worry.

"I'm working on it," Charles assured Harry, "It's just taking longer than either of us would like." Harry nodded in agreement, and they sank into silence. Sometimes these uncomfortable moments came up when they were talking, and no one broke them, until both of them forgot what was uncomfortable and started talking again. He just waited for that to happen, content in the knowledge that they would not remain silent for long.

Two weeks later, when he had only that long again before he returned to Hogwarts, Harry woke to find Charles standing over him as dawn touched the horizon with crimson fingers, slowly eating away the darkness to replace it with the light of the day. "Hm?" he asked sleepily, opening his eyes.

"I think I might have found a possible cure," Charles said, and Harry sat up fast. "Meet me when you are ready and I will tell you about it. It is far from ideal, but it might work." Harry nodded and Charles left him to shower and dress. Harry did both of these a lot faster than he might usually, and raced to the room that had become his and Charles's place over the summer.

Charles was waiting for him there, with a Potions book propped open, reading over a page, his eyes moving in a blur. Harry was sure that the vampire must have read the page several times over by now, because he knew Charles read fast, and he hadn't turned a page yet.

"Ah, there you are," Charles smiled at Harry as the boy walked in and sat down with him. "Well rested, I hope?" Harry nodded.

"You said you'd found a cure," he prompted.

"I think I may have," Charles replied, "But I am not certain, and even if I have, it will take a long time to make. Six months, at the very least." Harry closed his eyes for a moment, he wanted to feel something, some disappointment, but he could not. There was nothing there.

"And even if you make it, there is no guarantee it will work?" Harry asked, and Charles nodded his head. "Well, anything is better than nothing. If it's not going to have any adverse effects, we may as well try it, I suppose."

"That's what I thought," Charles nodded his head, "But it will take a long time. Hopefully things will go alright in that time."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Harry replied, "In the mean time, I can try and get my emotions back on my own."

"That's true. It will give you some discipline and knowledge in dealing with emotions, which could be good. My only worry is that by time the potion is ready, giving it to you would create too much emotional baggage for you," Charles sighed. Harry leaned over and rested his hand against Charles' for a moment.

"Charles, you're doing everything you can," he assured the vampire, "This is the only thing that you can find to help me. We have to do it, because I can't win this war if things go on the way they are. My emotions are my strongest weapon against Voldemort, we've discussed this. We'll deal with the consequences of this when they arise, but we need to move."

Charles didn't say anything for a long moment, and then he nodded. "Yes, I understand Harry … I just wish there was something that we could do to make this go faster."

"You are making it go faster," Harry pointed out, "It would take far longer if we let it run it's natural course, and there is no guarantee that the natural course would bring me to a state of knowing my emotions anyway." Charles smiled slightly and nodded his head.

"Well, that is certainly unquestionable," he replied, "Thank you Harry, that was exactly what I needed to hear from you."

Harry smiled back. "Chess?" he enquired, gesturing to the board. Charles smiled again, and Harry moved one of his pawns forward two spaces and waited for Charles to make his own move. The beginning two or three moves were the only ones made in any haste, these days, as the pair of them battled it out strategically over the game board.

* * *

The next day they went to John Elsen's little shop to purchase Harry's new school uniforms, because Charles refused to allow Harry to wear any less than the best when he returned to school for the new year. "I know that you don't want to seem stuck up Harry, but this year you're going to be in the public eye more than ever before. Being well dressed is important, all part of being well presented in society. You _are_ famous, and you are going to be an icon for the Magical World in this war."

Harry had simply nodded in agreement. He might have once thought that his friends would think that he was stuck up if he turned up dressed in the sort of things that Draco Malfoy might wear, but he didn't think that any more. He _liked_ have tailor made clothes that fit him perfectly. Even Malfoy got his school robes from Madam Malkin's, and while she was a fine seamstress, she didn't have as much time as Mr. Elsen, and therefore had a little less finesse than the less-known man.

While Harry waited for Mr. Elsen to finish with his new robes, Harry thought with some amusement that even if he had brought his uniforms with him from Privet Drive, they would not have fit him now. He had grown broader across the shoulders and a fair bit taller over the summer. His figure was now longer thin, but rather slim, and powerful muscles had been built up through the combination of his vampire blood, the amount of flying that he had been doing, and the good food that he had been eating.

When Mr. Elsen finished with the school robes they fit as perfectly as all of Harry's other clothing. He felt very comfortable in them, and thanked Mr. Elsen profusely, much to the amusement of the tailor. "Only doing my job, young Master Potter. It's an honour to serve someone as famous as you are."

Harry smiled, a little embarrassed, and nodded. "Let's go then, Harry," Charles said, "We've got a few other things to do in town now."

* * *

Finally, the last week of the holidays came around. Lucy packed Harry's bag for him, before he could protest, neatly storing his clothes, books and other items. In the special compartment, which he had to pack himself, he stored the snitch, his diary, his father's invisibility cloak and a couple of books that he would be frowned upon for having.

Harry was ready to go back to Hogwarts, but for the first time since he had started going to school, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to. Despite the fact that he was not allowed to do magic, Harry felt that it was worth that limitation to spend time with his family.

Of course, if he had to, he could exploit his weak command of blood magic. He had discovered through his reading on vampires and their powers that Blood Magic could do everything that normal magic could, just with greater effects … and, of course, it was more demanding to use.

Blood Magic required both knowledge of what one wanted to do, and a sacrifice of blood. That sacrifice, from a vampire, was the excess energy from feeding on human blood. Harry didn't have much of this, because he was only half vampire, and a new half vampire at that. If he wanted to do greater spells, then he would need to drink more. He didn't really believe that the trade was worth it.

So Harry could only do a couple of minor charms, using what little excess power he had left over from feeding on Lucy. Charles had taught him the sleep spell, so that he could cause people to go to sleep. Most vampires used this to ensure that their prey did not wake up, but Charles thought Harry might need it for other reasons … namely sneaking out of Hogwarts to return to Potter Mansion for feeding, or for any other reason that might prove necessary.

He also learnt the spell of summoning, in case he was ever caught without his wand, in which case he could summon it to him. If he summoned his wand with Blood Magic, even if his enemies had gotten hold of it, they would not be able to detain it with anything less a force more powerful than the one Harry was using.

Neither of these spells used a lot of Blood power, so Harry would be able to use them without feeding too often, which was all to the good as far as he was concerned. They would also both be of immediate use for him in Hogwarts and in battles with the Death Eaters.

He didn't really want to learn any other Blood Magic, because even learning it would require him to drink more blood. He had decided that he would be happy enough to rely on normal Wizarding magic when it came to anything else that he needed to.

* * *

As much as he wished time would suddenly freeze, the morning of September the first came all too soon for Harry's liking. He had gone to bed earlier than usual the night before so that he could wake up on time to catch the train, but other than that, his morning routine was fairly normal. Up, shower, dress and call for breakfast.

Lucy brought it, but rather than leaving when she had set it down for him, she sat down beside him. "You need to drink again before you leave," she told him, "And you'll need to drink a couple of times while you are at school. If you can manage to Floo here, that would be much easier, but for the moment, please, drink," she offered him her wrist.

Harry was still amazed that she could be so utterly calm about allowing him to feed from her … but then, she had lived with Charles for a long time before Harry had arrived, and had allowed Charles to feed from her when it became necessary. And Harry supposed that Charles required a lot more blood than he did, so it was probably preferable to allow Harry to feed anyway.

His body responded to the nearness of the blood, his canines lengthening to fangs, his mind almost disappeared as his need for the blood overtook everything else. He lowered his lips to Lucy's arm and his long fangs neatly pierced her skin, through to the vein, allowing the delicious life-giving liquid to flow down his throat.

Power immediately began to rush through his veins. He had not realised how little he had left until now, how weak his body was becoming without fresh blood. Strength returned, building up again, and then levelled out. He didn't feel it gaining in power any more, but as he was about to pull away, Lucy rested her other hand on the back of his head, holding him there. "You need to get some reserves," she told him.

Lucidity of thought returned to Harry, and he understood what she was saying, and therefore he did not pull away, drinking a little more, until she removed her hand from the back of his head, at which point he pulled away, licking the residue of blood from his fangs, and allowing them to retreat again.

At some point over the holidays, he could not remember when exactly, he had realised that he could make his fangs lengthen and retreat at will, not only when he was feeding, and this interested him. He had spent many hours standing in front of a mirror, fangs beared, lengthening and shortening them at will.

When he looked back at Lucy's arm, he discovered the punctures from his teeth were already healing over, and now looked like nothing more or less than an irritated insect bite. His book told him that something in vampire fangs made the wounds heal faster, something that had been developed so that vampires could continue to live without fear of discovery.

"I'm going to miss you while you're gone," Lucy told him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a strong embrace. "Take care of yourself, won't you?"

"Of course," Harry replied, returning the embrace. "I'll miss you too," he added, _more than you can know_, he finished silently. Intimacies such as that, however, weren't something that he was hugely comfortable with quite yet. "You have to promise to take care as well though, of yourself and of Charles."

Lucy laughed, "Of course I will. Master Charles will be just fine in my care Harry," she assured him, her eyes twinkling with good humour. "Well, I'd best be off, good luck this year, and I'll see you at Christmas, if not before!" they embraced again, then she was gone, and Harry was alone with his breakfast.

Charles came to meet him not long after Lucy had gone. "We will have to leave soon if we are to get to the station on time," Charles pointed out to him, and Harry nodded, his mouth full. "We'll be travelling using a form of blood magic that will speed up the journey; otherwise we would have had to have left some time ago."

Harry swallowed, "I thought we might be," he remarked with a grin. "I'm nearly done now, and other than eating, I'm ready to go. I already said goodbye to Lucy, and I imagine that Wilfred is driving us?"

"Of course," Charles replied, "Doesn't he always? I'll meet you outside, shall I?" Harry nodded, his mouth full again, because he was hurrying through his breakfast. As soon as he was finished, he grabbed his jacket and started for the door, his trunk and Hedwig having disappeared from his room, presumably taken by the house elves out to the car, ready for him.

Outside, the car was in the driveway, Charles already seated, and Wilfred behind the wheel. When Harry climbed into the back seat beside Charles, he glanced over the back of the seat and saw that Hedwig and his trunk had indeed been installed there. "We've taken care of everything," Wilfred assured him, seeing the movement of Harry's head, and Harry grinned slightly.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment, as Wilfred started down the driveway, and suddenly the countryside was passing them by a top speed, even though Wilfred was going at a reasonable speed. Blood Magic, Harry figured. "How long will it take us to get there?" Harry asked. It was nine o'clock now.

"A little over an hour, hopefully," Charles replied calmly. "That gives us plenty of time for any unforeseen delays. Always plan to arrive about twenty minutes ahead of time, not right on time, because otherwise you might be delayed." Charles didn't like being late, Harry had discovered.

As predicted, they reached Kings Cross with three quarters of an hour to spare. "Shall we have morning tea?" Charles enquired, and Harry shrugged his agreement. He wasn't nervous, but he was as close as he came to being in such a state. He knew that he had changed a lot over the holidays, his emotions being the main contributing factor. He wasn't sure how his friends would react to him now, or how he would react to them. He also didn't know how they would react to his story …

And of course, soon he would be back at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's eyes, and he wasn't sure what the venerable Headmaster was going to do either. If Dumbledore tried to forbid Harry from returning to Potter manor, Harry knew that he would be forced into disobedience. He could not allow himself to be separated from Charles. He could only hope that Dumbledore would listen to reason.

… Especially when it came to the Carcer de Malus. He would need Dumbledore's help with that, and hopefully the Headmaster of Hogwarts would either have some information which Harry could use, or had the means of obtaining such. Harry knew perfectly well that Dumbledore would be a tremendous asset in helping him find a way to defeat Dumbledore's latest weapon.

But he mustn't get his hopes up about that one; it was all too likely that Dumbledore wouldn't know anything about it. Charles had agreed to go to Knockturn Alley and find as many books on the room as possible. He would write to Harry with anything that he found. It was Harry's job to search Hogwarts, and he was hoping that he would finally be able to find some results.

They found an underground restaurant not far from Kings Cross Station, where they ate a delicious morning tea. Harry and Charles both wore sunglasses, because the summer sun was poking through the clouds and threatening to burn their delicate skin. Before either of them left the car they had rubbed sun screen into any part of the skin that would be showing, although that didn't help Charles nearly as much as it helped Harry.

They were both dressed almost identically in white shirt, black slacks and, in Charles' case, a black jacket as well. Harry was feeling a little warm, and had left his jacket in the top of his trunk, over his robes. His jacket was as formal was Charles' was anyway. They ate in companionable silence, neither wanting to discuss anything of importance in the Muggle establishment.

When they left the restaurant and returned to the station, Harry mentioned that he was touched by Charles coming to say farewell, with the sunlight so powerful. While Charles had said nothing, Harry knew that the sunscreen wasn't working nearly as well for the full vampire as it was for him.

"You're my grandson, my family, and my friend," Charles pointed out, waving the comment away. "I would not miss saying goodbye for the world. A little sun will set me back, but I will hunt tonight, and by tomorrow it will be forgotten." They were still a little ahead of time, but this was on purpose because neither of them wanted to be seen by the crowds that would flock to the station very shortly.

Harry gave both Wilfred and Charles one last embrace, then picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage and walking into the station, glancing back everyone couple of steps until the car had pulled away and vanished from sight. He felt very much alone as he made his way through the pleasantly busy station. He guessed that this was what homesickness was … he'd never experienced it before.

Harry wheeled his light trunk over to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, leaning lazily against it, and swiftly falling through onto the bustling Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The scarlet steam engine was puffing up purple smoke and the platform held a couple of families who had already turned up with their children. The real crowds would soon start, Harry supposed, as eleven o'clock fast approached.

Harry easily made his way through the groups of people huddled together and boarded the train without any incidents. From the safety of the train, he looked over the crowd, searching for any familiar faces. As yet, he could see none of his friends. The Weasley's and Hermione probably wouldn't arrive for a little while yet.

He made his way down to the back of the train, where he found an empty compartment and slid the door shut behind him, easily lifting his trunk and Hedwig's cage up into the luggage racks, but not before he removed the snitch from his trunk, along with one of his potions text books, parchment, quill and ink. When he managed to find Hermione, he would be able to grill her for information, after all.

Settling himself, he let go of the snitch, and, much as his father had beside the lake, allowed it to try and escape, then snatched it easily from the air. He had discovered that even this improved his reflexes, and so when he was bored, he often spent a lot of time doing just this.

The noises of the crowd outside gradually increased as eleven o'clock neared. Harry watched from his compartment, searching for a sign of his friends. While he thought he saw a flash of red hair once, it was quickly swallowed by the crowd, and Harry couldn't be sure if it had been the Weasleys or not.

Soon enough the train started moving. Outside, Harry could hear the muted sounds of last minute yells of goodbyes, but they faded from his thoughts as he considered what might happen on this ride. He would be discovered eventually, of course. Ron and Hermione would be looking for him, because he had promised to come to school this year, but would they be the first to find him?

As it turned out, they weren't. The compartment door slid open a little way into the trip, just as Harry released the snitch, and his hand snapped out again to recapture it as he rose gracefully to his feet to face the newcomers. Draco Malfoy, his pointed, aristocratic face bearing an expression of interest, stood in the doorway, flanked by two other Slytherins.

The surprising thing was that the two other boys were not Crabbe and Goyle, but rather two different Slytherins from their year. One of them was a ratty faced boy who Harry knew was called Theodore Nott. When Hagrid had brought the Thestrals to class the previous year, Harry recalled Nott had been one of the few others able to see the skeletal horses.

The other boy was someone Harry knew by sight but not by name. He was tall, a little taller than Malfoy, who was now about the same size as Harry, with neat black hair and deep blue eyes. Harry vaguely remembered him from Potions lessons, but he wasn't one of the people who had been particularly active when it came to ganging up on Gryffindors.

Malfoy looked Harry over, and Harry could just see the Slytherin was bursting with interest. Harry knew that he looked very little like the scrawny, scruffy character that he had been the previous year. "Have we met?" Malfoy asked, addressing Harry in a pleasant tone of the voice for the first time in many years.

Harry supposed that he now looked exactly like someone who Malfoy would befriend. He had the appearance of someone both aristocratic and wealthy, after all. "We have indeed," Harry returned, his tone as polite as Malfoy's, no emotion showing in his voice. He didn't even feel any particular emotion. Malfoy no longer brought hatred and anger to Harry's mind, which Harry supposed was a good thing. "Do you not remember?"

"When did we meet?" Malfoy asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

Harry gave a faint smirk and reached for his sunglasses, pushing them up to rest on top of his head, revealing startlingly green eyes and a lightning bolt scar. "Potter," Malfoy hissed, pleasant demeanour vanishing as if it had never been. "You aren't dead? Pity, I was rather hoping all the rumours would have at least a grain of truth."

"Yes, it's me, and no, I'm not dead," Harry replied coolly, "And we were having such a pleasant conversation – I take it you're going to get all high and mighty now?" the expression on Malfoy's face as Harry said that was worth a thousand galleons. He just gaped at Harry, who smiled pleasantly back. "Perhaps the year we can get by without all the petty, childish rivalries, hmm?"

Malfoy recovered a little, but his expression was still one of confusion and amazement. "You've changed, Potter."

"I was aware of that," Harry replied calmly, eyes still focused on those of his long time rivals. "Although what I would like to know, Malfoy, is have _you_?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy demanded sharply.

"I mean, have you gotten over the fact that Lord Voldemort is not a man worthy of placing your loyalty behind? Your father is still in prison, his_ lord_ hasn't helped him escape from that one, now has he? Voldemort shows no mercy, to his followers or to his enemies. I would advise that you remove yourself from a road that will lead ultimately to your destruction, if you have not done so already, and turn your back on the Dark Lord."

Behind Malfoy, Theodore Nott made a strangled sound, and Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed icily. "You don't know what you're speaking of, Potter. The Dark Lord is all powerful, and he will reward those who give him great service – my father failed, and the Dark Lord has no place for failures in his followers. He will be served by only the greatest that the Magical world has to offer."

"Yes, and that is why is searches for allies in the Giants. I thought you Purebloods hated them?" Harry said mildly.

"Our Lord is unquestionable. If he, in his wisdom, invites the giants to our ranks, who are we to question him?" Nott demanded hotly before Malfoy could say anything.

"Ah, so Voldemort has taken _you_ into his service, in place of your father Malfoy? I see. He will turn on you as he once turned on Lucius, though, that I can assure you. He will destroy you, for no better than reason than that your death amused him."

"You know nothing," Malfoy repeated.

"No Malfoy, it is you who knows nothing. I have stood against Voldemort-"

"Stop speaking the Dark Lord's name!" Nott interrupted again, "Your blasphemous mouth does not deserve the honour of referring to Him by His chosen name!"

"Would you kindly remove your new lackey from the compartment Malfoy? He is polluting the air with his stupidity … you may as well go with him, you are obviously too blind to see the truth … but time will prove me right in the end Malfoy, and when your _Lord_ lies dead on the battlefield, his armies dead or dying around him … think carefully – do you want to be one of the dead?"

Malfoy looked utterly shocked at Harry's verbal rebuff, considering that generally in their conversations, either Harry or Ron would attempt to attack him physically. Harry did not generally bandy words with Malfoy, and the Slytherin boy was not accustomed to fight with words – he usually relied on petty insults and making people angry with him, then sheltering behind others when those people tried to attack him.

"Think you're so clever, don't you Potter?" Malfoy snarled at him as he gestured for his two new lackeys to leave the compartment before him. "The Dark Lord has powers beyond your comprehension, and he will be triumphant. He cannot be defeated, and he will destroy Muggles and Mudbloods, and Mudblood lovers. I look forward to spitting on your grave, Potter."

"As you wish it, Malfoy," Harry said coolly, "Time will prove one of us right. Our rivalry continues then."

Malfoy just sneered and stepped back, following his lackeys from the compartment and slamming the door behind him. Harry allowed himself a faint smile before he sat down again. He was sure that Malfoy was surprised by Harry's lack of response, but Harry almost wished that he had been able to react as he might once have. It would have proved that he could still do so, after all.

It had been interesting fighting with words instead of losing his temper.

Harry settled back into his seat and gently replaced the snitch in its box, binding it in place and closing the lid. He was sure that very soon he would be receiving some visitors, whether they were his friends or just other students from Hogwarts coming to check that he was in fact alive. When that happened, he didn't want the snitch to escape.

Sure enough only a few minutes passed before Ron, Hermione and Ginny appeared outside his door. He got to his feet and opened the door. His friends stared at him, trying to associate the young man they saw before them with their friend. While they examined him, he returned the favour.

All three of them were wearing badges that proclaimed them Gryffindor Prefects. Ron had grown another inch or so and still towered above Harry. Where Harry had become neat and sophisticated over the holidays, precisely the opposite seemed to have occurred with Ron. He was scruffier than ever, orange stubble brushing his cheeks, hair looking as messy as Harry's usually was and his freckles were browner than ever. Harry's own beard had decided to start growing over the summer as well, but Harry had shaved it off immediately because it was patchy, uncomfortable and not particularly attractive.

The one thing that had changed was that both Ron and Ginny's robes were new this year. Harry supposed that Arthur was getting more money from the Ministry for working over time, and he wondered if the Weasley's were also getting a bonus from the Order.

Hermione had grown taller, her brown hair tamer than he had ever seen it before. Her robes were neat and she had a very mature air about her. Both she and Ginny had filled out over the summer, taller and prettier than ever before. Both of them also had very confident, competent airs as well.

For a moment, all of them remained completely silent, until Hermione broke the silence. "Harry?"

"Yes Hermione, it's me," Harry replied. At the sound of his voice, any doubt that he was their friend was banished entirely. He stepped forward and embraced each of them strongly in turn. "I've missed you guys." They all stepped back from each other again, for a moment uncomfortable.

"You've really grown up Harry," Hermione said eventually, breaking the silence again. "You look … really good." Ron shot Harry a jealous look and reached out with one of his hands, folding it protectively around Hermione's. She turned to smile at him in a sort of embarrassed way, and gripped his hand in return.

So, Harry thought as he watched this exchange, there was something happening between Ron and Hermione. Well, he had been suspecting it for some time, so it wasn't any real surprise … but he supposed that he would have to be careful about what he said and did around them. Ron got jealous easy, after all, and the last thing he wanted was for that to come between them, especially when he had no feelings for Hermione at all, and therefore any jealousy would be completely unfounded.

"Thank you Hermione. You three have as well," Harry replied, nodding amiably.

"You aren't wearing glasses," Ginny pointed out, just as Ron demanded,

"Where have you been?"

There was silence, as everyone looked expectantly at Harry, waiting for him to answer. He remained silent himself for a moment, considering what to say. "Ron, you're very lucky in your choice of a girlfriend, and I wish the two of you all the best." Ron and Hermione blushed violently at this statement.

"Ginny, very observant of you, I'm not wearing glasses, no. I've got contact lenses now. I would explain what they are, but I'm sure Hermione has a better understanding of the technology behind them, so I'll let her do that at a later point in time. For now, let's just say that they allow me to see perfectly without needing something as cumbersome as glasses.

"Now, I suppose I should really answer the question that you really want to hear the answer to … although I can tell you right now that you aren't going to like what I'm going to say next. So, here is the only answer I can give you in answer to the question of where I have been," Harry sighed. "I cannot tell you, will not tell you. I will not tell _anyone_, not you, not Dumbledore or the rest of the Order, not the press and not the Ministry. At some point I will tell you, but I have no idea when that will be."

"Why can't you tell us?" Ron demanded, eyes flashing, "We could understand when you didn't say anything in letters, we weren't allowed to either, but we've been worrying about you for months! We told you everything last year when we saw you!" Harry could see the anger in Ron's face, and the disappointed looks in the eyes of the two girls.

Harry looked his first ever friends in the eyes and replied, "Ron, I trust you with my life, I always have. But I _can't_ tell you this, and nothing you can say will change that. Please, just accept what I say and move on. Eventually you'll know, I won't hide it forever, but it _must_ wait for the time being. I'm _sorry_, alright?"

"I'm not going to pretend I'm happy with that," Hermione informed him, her voice cracking a little, "But if you aren't going to tell us anything more, then I guess I'll learn to live with it. We've been really worried, even though you've said that you were safe. But if you won't tell us, I won't make you."

"The place I have been was a good one," Harry said softly, "It was what I needed. The people there helped me get over Sirius in a way I don't think anyone else could have. I was safe, and I was happy. I know that won't put all your fears at rest, but perhaps it will help some."

Ron didn't say anything, obviously still hurt that Harry didn't trust him enough to say where he had been, but Harry knew that his friend would get over it soon enough, and then everything would be just fine. "How have you been?" Ginny asked to break the silence that was growing between them.

"I've been very well," Harry replied with a faint smile. "I've changed a lot, as you mentioned earlier. You were talking about physical changes, but there have been a lot of other changes as well. I don't think you're going to have to worry at all about me getting angry with you this year – I've moved past that now. And I guess you guys have changed a lot too." He glanced down at Ron and Hermione's still–joined hands.

"Yeah, we have …" Hermione said, following the direction of Harry's gaze and blushing again. "How did you do with those potions assignments? Congratulations on your results and classes, by the way. Ron and I are in most of your classes, although Ron didn't make Advanced Potions …" Hermione was quite obviously grasping at straws now.

"Ron, stop being a prat," Ginny said, glaring at her brother, "Harry isn't tell us either, so stop taking it personally. You haven't seen your friend for two months, and now you won't even speak to him? Honestly! Get involved with the conversation or leave the compartment."

For a moment, Ron scowled at his sister, before shrugging slightly. "Yeah, I didn't make Advanced Potions, but that's probably a good thing. I might not be able to become an Auror, but at least I won't have to put up with Snape any more. I'm doing Care of Magical Creatures instead of Potions, and Astronomy instead of Political Studies."

"I decided to continue Ancient Runes," Hermione added, "So you'll be alone in Political Studies, I'm afraid."

"I see you got to be Prefect?" Harry turned to Ginny to try and include her in the conversation as well. "Fred and George must have been disappointed."

"Yeah, they were a little," she replied, smiling slightly, "But they said that as long as I didn't become Head Girl, they could probably cope with the shame … and I'm happy enough because mum bought me a Cleansweep like Ron's – that way I'll be able to keep up with you guys if I stay on the team this year. You got to be Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm going to have a really busy time of it this year … a lesson with Snape once a week–possibly twice, if I have to continue Occlumency with him–three or so Quidditch practices, plus extra assignments from Snape and all the other homework."

Ron and Ginny both shuddered, but Hermione gave him a prim smile. "I'm glad that you're thinking of your academic career as well as Quidditch this year, Harry. I _do_ hope that you aren't going to try and put off homework in favour of Quidditch." She shot a meaningful look at Ron here, who looked deliberately away. Evidently they had discussed this before.

"Of course not, Hermione," Harry said, thinking that some things never changed. "I've already done over half of the Potions assignments as well, I was wondering if you'd look over them for me. Thanks for the birthday present; by the way, he's in my bag right now. He was on my bedside table until I left."

"You're welcome," Hermione replied, "We weren't sure how you would react to it … we hoped that you would like it. We thought that it would help you by reminding you of him when he was happy."

"If you'd sent it to me in the first two or three weeks of the holidays, I probably would have blown up at you," Harry remarked with a grin, "But I like to think that I've matured a little more since then. I appreciate it, really. It has had just the effect that you had hoped it would."

"That's good," Ron said, sounding relieved. "I didn't think it would be a good idea, after what you were like at the end of last year, but Hermione pointed out that once you had time to reflect and accept your losses you'd appreciate it more. Glad it worked out."

Harry nodded. "Who do you think we're going to get for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?" he asked, directing the conversation to more certain ground. Sirius and the holidays were things he'd rather avoid speaking of if he could help it.

"Someone decent," Hermione said immediately, "Dumbledore will probably have someone from the Order of the Phoenix, I would expect. We didn't hear anything about it when we were at Head Quarters though. You know what it's like, they don't pay much attention to us, and they know to ward against the Ears now as well."

"Speaking of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, what happened to Umbridge?" Harry asked, "I never remembered to bring it up in my letters to you, but I've been wondering what happened to her. I didn't read anything in the _Prophet_ about her, but then, I didn't start reading it until after I left Privet Drive."

"There was a small article that mentioned it," Hermione said, "But that was back in the first week of the holidays. She waltzed back into the Ministry and took over her old position as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. No word was really said about what she was doing at Hogwarts, but then again, the Ministry is probably trying to make us forget that she was there. It's a tribute to the fact that they were trying to discredit Dumbledore."

"So her and Percy are working together," Ginny said in disgust. "They are well suited. She's been campaigning to get Centaurs culled, but no one is paying much attention to her. Traditionally, we leave them alone as much as we can. We don't understand them."

"Can't see why we would. They like to keep themselves apart," Harry agreed, thinking that it was rather the same when it came to vampires, only that vampires were feared because they were unknown. "I suppose everyone is too busy worrying about Voldemort's return to think about something as trivial as that." His friends nodded in agreement. "And what about Hagrid? What's he been doing with himself? And Grawp, for that matter."

Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust at the thought of the 'little' giant, Hagrid's younger brother. "Well, he wasn't at Head Quarters much through the summer. He spent most of it with Grawp first at Hogwarts, and then over in France. Having Grawp in the forest, particularly with the Centaurs around, is rather dangerous, so they've moved him. With 'family concerns' he's decided that being a teacher isn't the best option for him any more. He's going to stay as Grounds Keeper, and everything he was before he took on Care of Magical Creatures, but spend a fair bit of time in France as well, with Grawp. Later on, he might come back as a teacher, but that doesn't look too likely at the moment."

"Pretty good thing, in my opinion," Ron remarked, "I mean, he's a great friend, but he didn't make the best teacher in the world, even I have to admit that. We can go back to being friends with him without having to worry as much about being eaten by monsters."

"Hagrid says that Grawp has learned more English recently," Hermione added, "But apart from that, I don't think that there is much to say. We haven't heard much from him. He wasn't around Head Quarters much this summer."

"Right," Harry said, "Well, I'm sure we'll catch up with Hagrid once school starts and things settle down a bit. How are things going with your family Ron, Ginny?"

"Alright," Ron said slowly, "Fred and George are making bucket loads from their shop, and they've been helping mum and dad out … with only me and Ginny being the kids left in the house, there's a bit more money now. We've got new robes this year, and we didn't have to get second hand books."

"That's great!" Harry said, injecting some enthusiasm into his voice. "I'm sure that's made things a bit easier for all of you."

Ron nodded. "Dad's been working over time at the Ministry, of course, with them trying to combat You-Know-Who and all that … everyone is. What with that and the Order, mum and dad were really busy all through the holidays. It's been good having Charlie and Bill around more often though. They kept their desk jobs this year, so they're both still here in Britain."

"Awesome," Harry smiled. "So Fred and George are having a good time?"

"Yeah. Mum's even gotten over their choice of career now. It helps that they're bringing in as much money as they are. They've hired Lee Jordan and a couple of other people from their year at school. They've developed heaps of new stuff," Ginny said, grinning.

Harry remained silent for a moment, "Well, I think that's everyone that I needed to ask about," he remarked. "Well, everyone that I won't see soon enough and haven't heard from personally."

Hermione nodded and turned to Ginny, "Do you want to go and get the others?" she asked the fifth year prefect, who nodded happily and backed out of the compartment. "We were going to sit with DA; they were saving us seats while we were at the Prefect meeting. They'll want to talk to you though, so they might as well come here.

"So everyone wants to continue with DA?" Harry asked.

"Um, yeah, pretty much … that is, if you still want to teach us?" Hermione's face was hopeful as she spoke.

"I guess," Harry said, "You'll have to help out sometimes though, if I don't have time, along with everything else I'll have to do. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher might start a duelling club or something … if there is something like that, we'll probably stop."

"Of course," Hermione nodded, just as the rest of Dumbledore's Army bounded through the door. Ginny was walking beside Dean, and, like Ron and Hermione, they were holding hands. Harry remembered Ginny saying that she was thinking of getting with Dean, he could only suppose that she had done so.

"I told them not to ask about where you've been," Ginny whispered to him as she dragged Dean down sit beside her, while the rest of DA happily greeted Harry, none of them so much as mentioning the fact that he had been missing for most of the summer. He was glad that they didn't, because he didn't want to talk about it at all, it made him feel bad.

Harry looked around the group, examining the faces that had become as familiar to him as Ron and Hermione's over the past year. They had all grown up over the summer, although none of them seemed to have changed as much as he had. The group had no new faces in it, although two of the previous year's group were now missing. Cho Chang, who had been made Head Girl this year, and Michael Corner. Last year, Michael had been going out with Ginny, now he was going out with Cho.

While Harry knew that Cho had enjoyed being part of DA, this year she would have a lot of things to do. She had her place on the Quidditch team, and she was Head Girl. Besides, after their break up last year, she probably felt that things would be strained if she rejoined … Harry had sort of hoped that you she would stay around, because it might have been nice to be friends with her … even though he wouldn't have wanted to continue any other form of relationship with her.

Maybe it was for the best that she wasn't here any more. Probably it would be for the best that Michael was gone as well, because the younger boy had never been into the club in the way that those who were here with him now were. Now that Umbridge was gone, the only ones who would continue would be those who just liked being part of the group. And that was what Harry wanted – those who were dedicated.

"Well, I suppose you all want to know what's going to happen with DA this year," Harry remarked once everyone had seated themselves and exchanged greetings. Immediately he had the attention of the group, who all quietened respectively. "Alright, you all know what happened at the end of last year – Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville and myself went to the Ministry of Magic and fought Death Eaters and Voldemort," the group flinched at the sound of the Dark Lords name, almost collectively. "What they learned in DA helped them a bit, but not enough. If you want to continue this year, I'm more than happy to teach you. But it's going to be harder; the spells are going to be stronger. Last year, we got good enough to get through the OWLs, this year we have to get good enough to face Death Eaters and win!"

They all cheered at that, and Harry smiled slightly. "I don't know what time we'll be meeting, not yet. You'll have to wait for that information until we get back to school and everyone knows what else is going on when. Quidditch practice in particular, but also other groups and that sort of thing. I'll put it on the noticeboard when I come up with a time … it's always open to debate, to some extent."

"Why can't we just keep using the Galleons?" Zacharias demanded. "I liked those, they were really awesome! Besides, do we really want half of the school trying to join us? I think it should just be us, the original group. We're the ones who made the decision to begin with; I don't think we should let any person in the school just wander in and join us. Because if it's an official school group, technically we aren't allowed to deny membership."

Harry thought this over for a moment before answering, "Well, I tend to agree with Zack. DA was founded for a reason – for those who were willing to make the sacrifice, those who were willing to be discovered by Umbridge and face the consequences. Also, if we have new people joining, we'll have to let them catch up with us, because we were the only ones who learnt all the spells we needed to last year, and they won't be part of the history of our camaraderie. OK, I reckon that we should put it to the vote. Raise your hands if you want it to just stay us."

Everyone in the room raised their hands, though some did so with more hesitancy than others. "I think that's a fairly clear answer," Harry smiled, and Susan put her hand up. "Yes Susan?"

"What if there are people who want to join, and who prove they know their stuff? If they really have a reason to want to be a part of the group? And if we want to let them in? I don't think that we should just say _no one_ else will be allowed in, ever. That seems to final to me."

Harry nodded, "I agree. I say that if a person wants to join, and can obtain the majority of votes from the members of the group, they should be allowed in. What about you guys?" there was a murmur of agreement. "Alright, that's settled. Now, I'm taking it that you still want me to be the leader of the group?"

"Of course!" was the unanimous response, "It's not like anyone else could do even close to as good a job," Zacharias continued. "Except _maybe_ Hermione … no, you're the only person who's really qualified to be the leader, at least, that's what I think." This statement was followed by complete agreement from the others.

"I thought so," Harry smiled, "But I thought I should check, just in case. I think that this year we should be a little more democratic in our approach, though. You'll notice I've asked you to vote on several key issues. I don't think that I'm qualified to make all of the decisions, and one person should never be left as the sole leader, because one person with have some bias on his or her decisions.

"If at any point anyone disagrees with something I say or do, let me know. I won't bite your heads off, and I think it's really important that the group knows what's good for itself. If needs be, anyone in the group has the right to call a vote, and if they have the majority, then I'll change what was being voted against without question. I promise that. You can call a vote over anything – whether it's the time of the meetings, the way things are conducted, what we are learning, or about membership in a group."

Everyone seemed to be happy with that suggestion, and Harry was glad. It was fairly important that everyone was happy with what was going on. Last year he hadn't been very supportive if anyone had even _seemed_ like they didn't like something he was doing, and he had every intention of changing that as much as possible this year. He wanted to be fair above all else.

"OK, one last thing, before I shut up about DA – unless you have anything else that you want to contribute – I think that we should change the name back to the original suggestion that I made, Defence Association. We aren't trying to be anti-Ministry anymore, after all."

"Fair enough," Zacharias agreed, "The name was more for fun before, and because that was more what we were doing, going up against the Ministry. Now if we are concentrating more on fighting You-Know-Who, then we should probably change the name. I agree, what about you guys?" Everyone agreed quickly enough, and Harry smiled.

Harry smiled around at everyone. He had ulterior motives for changing the name of the group, of course. He knew that Dumbledore wasn't the perfect person that a lot of people believed him to be. Harry knew that Dumbledore had made mistakes, and one of them had made him very angry, once. And of course, Dumbledore hadn't believed that Harry could look after himself in the holidays.

Harry no longer blamed Dumbledore for what had happened, but nor did he trust the old man. His group was not going to be _Dumbledore's_ army. Dumbledore had the Order. No, DA was going to be _Harry's_ group, his friends, his _army_, if things turned out that way. Harry knew that he would need support in the upcoming war, Charles had made sure that he was perfectly clear on that issue, and DA would hopefully be that support.

When no else brought up any issues that they wanted addressed, their conversation went into what everyone had been doing over the summer, but no one actually asked Harry. He just said that he'd been practicing flying a lot, and had been doing a fair bit of reading up on Defence Against the Dark Arts, among other things.

Neville had gotten himself a new wand, which he was really happy about, and spent a fair bit of time showing it off. He was hoping that his magic would improve this year, now that he had a wand that was better suited to him. Harry was fairly sure that Neville would do well, and said as much, which made the other boy blush a little, but with happiness.

Luna was disappointed, because she and her father hadn't managed to find whatever beast it was that they had been looking for while they'd been on holiday, but she admitted that they had had a good time regardless. She was looking forward to being back at school, but hadn't managed to become Ravenclaw Prefect – she didn't seem to mind too much though.

Ron and Hermione also kept fairly quiet about their summers, although Harry assumed that this was because they had been at the Headquarters for the Order, and they weren't allowed to say much, even if they had wanted to. Ron and Ginny had both spent a bit of time working at Fred and George's shop in Diagon Alley, getting some extra cash for it. They talked about Fred and George's latest inventions, and showed a few of them off, ones that they had brought with them to Hogwarts and which weren't too dangerous.

Finally the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and everyone started heading for the exit, Harry with DA grouped around him, still talking jovially. He, however, was becoming less and less talkative, his thoughts turning to his return to the Wizarding World. What would Dumbledore have to say to him? Would he pry Harry's secret from him? Harry knew that the old man would try his hardest, but Harry would do his best to ensure that he didn't succeed.

Harry shook himself as the Thestral drawn carriage came towards them. Both Ron and Hermione could see the huge beasts now, and they shuddered at the sight of them. "We _rode_ those things?" Ron hissed softly, obviously surprised by the appearance despite what Harry had told him of the creatures.

"Yup," Harry said, swinging easily into one of the carriages, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Dean following him inside, while the others dispersed to find empty carriages. "They aren't the prettiest beasts alive, but they do seem to have their own beauty." Ron just gave him a look that said Harry was being stupid.

Harry only smiled slightly in reply. He didn't care what Ron thought, he could see the beauty in those beasts. They were very powerful too, which was also a good thing. He wondered if he would have much more to do with the creatures, and he found that he almost hoped he would.

They set off towards the castle, and Harry's thoughts remained dark … what _would_ happen when he arrived?

* * *

Find what does happen when Harry arrives in Chapter Ten! This is probably my last update before I leave, and it's the longest chapter in the story so far … I hope you enjoy, and forgive the couple of extra days I spent working on it! We've reached three hundred reviews so far, which has made me really happy, and I hope to continue to receive a lot more for the coming chapters!

Thanks to:

Satyr-oh, fujutsu, Thee-Unknown-Factor, darkangelgep, HecateDeMort, HermioneGreen, Emma Barrows, Makieus, jbfritz, elvishchic14, dark672, bandgsecurtijaw, SilverBulletInAWolf, Mosrael, faeriekittie306animelover, no ones shadow, Snuffles629, Allyanna, no ones shadow, Japanese-jew, emikae, SlythsRule, Mirai no Kami, JeanieBeanie, applebottoms, Mikito, snitchkeeper, steffles24, SiriusRulz14, Shadowed Rains, Chaos-Empersonified, alix33.

I enjoyed reading all of your reviews and thank you greatly for them! It's always good to hear what you have to say about the story, your likes and dislikes, what you think I should change/work on … it's all really useful, so keep the reviews coming!

WolfMoon 


	10. The School Year Begins

_**Telekinesis **_

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Ten: The School Year Begins

The carriages pulled up at the front doors of Hogwarts, and the students spilled out, all of them happy to be back at school and catching up with their friends, though that would start to change once classes began and homework began to pile up. Harry walked up the steps and into the Entrance Hall with his friends gathered around him.

Those who did not know that he was back pointed and muttered, and so he very quickly came to the attention of Albus Dumbledore, who was waiting quietly in front of the doors into the Hall. Harry was fairly sure that the man was waiting for him, and this suspicion was confirmed when the Headmaster beckoned Harry away from his group.

"Go on," Harry told his friends, "I'll be with you soon enough," he strode over to Dumbledore, purposeful and calm, "What can I do for you, Headmaster?" he asked, voice perfectly even, scrupulously polite.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Dumbledore enquired. While it was not phrased as a demand, coming from Dumbledore, it was one, and in the past Harry would have fallen over himself, trying to answer the question quickly. In the past, but not now.

"It's none of your business," he informed Dumbledore, voice low and clear. "As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, your authority over me is total while I am at school, when I leave here; responsibility for my care is given to my legal guardians, which you are not. I do not have to answer to you on my whereabouts during the holidays."

Dumbledore gave him a sad look. "You used to trust me," he pointed out.

"I still do. But not with this," Harry replied. "I am my own master, Dumbledore. I will not answer to you like a child who cannot make decisions about his life. _My life is my own_, remember that. I was safe, and told you so more than once. You did not listen to me, but that is no concern of mine.

"Of course you may rely on my help, should I be able to give it … but this is not the place or time to discuss such things … there is something else that we need to speak about, so perhaps we could meet after the feast?"

Albus seemed surprised that Harry would actually dare to name a time, and that surprise made Harry feel good. It was interesting, being able to shock the headmaster of Hogwarts, one of the most powerful men alive. "Perhaps," Albus returned, "Come to my office when the feast is done."

Harry nodded, and left without being dismissed, walking into the Great Hall and across to the Gryffindor table. The teachers watched him, many of them seeming surprised that he had returned, having thought him lost, and all bar one of them looking happy that he had come back. Snape watched him with a very sour expression on his face.

Harry removed his sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket, and nodded to the staff table, before taking his seat between Ron and Hermione and waiting for the first years to arrive so that the Sorting Hat would do its job, and they would be able to eat. He had become used to large meals, and he was hungry now.

Eventually, the first years arrived, led by Professor McGonagall, and were lined up before the teachers table, looking at the Sorting Hat. Harry remembered, very vaguely, how he had felt when he was that age, and smiled at the shock on many faces that appeared when the hat opened a wide hole its brim and started to sing.

Harry paid very little attention to the words of the song, which, as they had the other times he had heard it, merely spoke of the Founders, and their houses, the qualities which each one respected. He was waiting to see if, as it had the year before, the Hat would give them some warning of what was to come. But it didn't, and the song ended without event.

Harry wasn't sure if this disappointed him, but he had little time to think about it as the Sorting began and he paid attention. Each of the youngsters was looking more wary than usual, and Harry supposed that this was largely because wizards were in a lot of danger at the moment, and they were scared. The pureblood's who knew _precisely_ what threatened, feared for their families, half-bloods did as well – Muggleborns were agitated about a threat that no one would have properly explained to them.

Slowly, the long line lessened as each student was called up, and then sent away to loud applause. Eventually, McGonagall reached the 'S's', and called out a name that had been totally unexpected, "Snape, Sebastian."

Instantly, the hall froze, staring at the boy who stepped forward. Harry examined him slowly, noting that while the nose was similar to Snape's own, it was not quite as dominant. His hair was as black, but not as greasy, his eyes were dark, but not hate filled, and the trademark scowl was missing. But there was no doubt that this was the child of the hated Severus Snape, especially when you saw the look on Snape's face. There was no hatred there for the first time in Harry's memory.

Whispers broke out, as people questioned the identity of the child. Harry had no doubts, and he knew that all other doubts would have to be put aside. There could be no other answer. The boy seemed nervous under the suddenly intense scrutiny of the student body, and the new students obviously didn't understand what was going on, or why this student would attract such attention.

But he bore up well under the stress, and squared his shoulders, walking forward and sitting down on the stool, placing the hat on his head. The hall watched, in silence, as they waited for the predicted outcome, waiting for the Hat to announce that the boy would be in Slytherin.

For a long time, there was silence. No one moved or spoke, and the hat remained completely still. Harry had not seen the school pay so much attention to sorting since he himself had sat on that stool. A minute dragged on, and then another … the third was well on the way when the hat finally moved. Its mouth opened wide, and a word thundered through the Great Hall,

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Hall erupted. Everyone was asking questions at the top of their lungs, wondering how the child of a Snape was doing not being sorted into Slytherin straight off the bat. The Slytherins were looking shocked, but not nearly as much as the Ravenclaw table – Harry noticed almost immediately that no one was cheering for the child. Harry remained silent, even though Ron was yelling something at him about Snape sending his son to do Voldemort's dirty work in Ravenclaw. Harry was paying more attention to Snape Senior, though, watching as his expression changed from shock to pride.

Harry knew then that Severus Snape loved his son, although he had never seen any evidence that Snape loved anyone else on this earth. Harry wondered, briefly, who the child's mother had been, but discarded the thought immediately, finding the idea of anyone begetting a child with Snape disturbing at best.

Sebastian Snape walked to the Ravenclaw table, knowing which it was despite the complete lack of welcome from his housemates to be. Harry watched him now, sensing something odd in the child, although he could not quite put his finger on it. Sebastian wasn't like all the other people here, but Harry wasn't completely sure just how different, or what the nature of that difference might be.

He would have to think on that, but not now. The Sorting would continue, and for a moment the thought of Snape's son would be forgotten by the students as they welcomed new comers to their ranks. But thoughts would return to Sebastian Snape. He was an oddity, much as Harry had been when he first came to the school. But he had it worse off – he was an oddity who everyone would be prejudiced against, where Harry had, for the most part, had the support of the school when he had first arrived here.

Harry almost felt sorry for the boy. Almost every student who wasn't in Slytherin hated Professor Snape, and while they could do nothing directly against him, with his son in the school, there was another outlet for their frustrations. Sebastian Snape was likely to have a large problem when it came to bullies in the school, Harry realised. He knew what that felt like, and he would not wish the experience upon anyone.

And of course, because Sebastian was in Ravenclaw, he would not have the Slytherin common room to fall back on as a refuge. Slytherins would welcome the boy, he was the son of their head of house, after all, but there was only so much they could do when he was in another house to them.

In fact, they could very well feel betrayed by the fact that Snape's son had _not_ been placed in their house, and have a grudge of their own against the boy because of that. Still, with a father as a teacher, Sebastian would have one place where he would be safe – his father's office. No one would go in _there_ willingly.

Harry turned his mind from Sebastian Snape; the only reason that he was in the least bit interested in the boy was because of that difference that he did not understand. He would have to think about that, and discover what it meant. It intrigued him. Instead, he watched the new Gryffindors, who came to the table looking proud and happy, Muggleborns delighted to have been found to have courageous qualities, many purebloods happy to be in the same house as the famous Harry Potter, who was well known for defeating 'You-Know-Who'.

Harry smiled and clapped for each student, which evidently made them feel very wanted, and they all smiled shyly back at him, amazed to have been noticed by someone as famous as he was. Students who went to other houses looked on enviously. Harry wouldn't have much to do with the younger students, but the least he could do was make them feel welcome at school. First years, after all, had never particularly interested him, and were for Ron, Ginny and Hermione, as Prefects, to look after.

As soon as the last student had been sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore rose to his feet. "I am sure that you have all noticed that Harry Potter has returned for school this year, and is not as lost as we have been lead to believe – please do not question him on his whereabouts over the holidays, he will not appreciate it at all.

"Other than that, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has been kind enough to place a list of the banned objects, which has now been extended to include various Weasley's products, on his office door. I suggest you check that before trying out any of your new toys, which you may discover to be banned.

"Also, the Forbidden Forest is, as its name implies, forbidden to all students. Now more so than ever as in previous years, the Centaurs have at least watched over people entering the forest, and often warned when some harm was about to befall them, but that is no longer the case. The Centaurs will no longer tolerate humans in what they perceive as _their_ forest, and will be as harmful to your welfare as any of other numerous terrors. _Be careful_.

"As you all know, Lord Voldemort has returned to power and is once more threatening the Wizarding world," almost everyone in the room flinched when Dumbledore spoke the name, but no one protested. They were awed that Dumbledore would dare, probably, Harry thought cynically. "Because of this, you _must_ not leave the Castle grounds for any reason save on designated trips. Hogsmeade trips were very nearly banned, but instead, the age has been increased – this year only fourth years and up may proceed to Hogsmeade, and staff will be keeping an eye on everyone, with the aid of the prefects.

"Also, you must not be out of your common rooms after hours, Hogwarts is well-protected but by no means impenetrable. You would be advised to not leave the castle itself, save when in the company of a prefect, seventh year student, or teacher, and even then not after dark.

"There were also suggestions of banning Quidditch, but we have decided against this. Instead, a _teacher_ must be present at all practices. These new rules have been implemented for your own safety, and we are sure that you will be happy to abide by them. I warn you now, if you fail to obey these rules, the privileges you have been granted _will_ be taken away from you," Dumbledore added, then gave the last announcement, "Your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor will not be here until tomorrow morning, he was held up tonight. I shall introduce him to you then.

"Now that this has been said, I believe it is time to eat – enjoy the feast!" and food began to appear across the tables. Harry immediately dug in, Ron, beside him, acting in like fashion. Spending the holidays with Charles had sharpened Harry's manners, and while he ate quickly, he ate _neatly_. So much could not be said for Ron, who, as always, merely shovelled food into his mouth at an alarming rate. It was a good thing that no one tried to talk to him; otherwise he would have been spraying food all over the place.

The feast was, as always, delicious, and went late into the night. By the time the deserts vanished, Harry was one of the few who was not yet yawning, accustomed as he was to staying up late in the night and into the early hours of the morning with Charles. Dumbledore led them in the school song, before dismissing them to go to bed and get ready for classes, which would start the following morning.

Harry bid his friends goodbye, figuring that they would be in bed asleep by the time be got up to the dormitory, and went to the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster was waiting for him there, "Blood pops," he said cheerfully, and Harry barely suppressed a shiver. It almost seemed like an omen, that he couldn't hide the truth, no matter how hard he tried.

He shook off that feeling – he would be able to hide the truth for as long as was necessary. In silence, he followed Dumbledore up the stairs and into the office. Fawkes was there, as always, perching behind the door, and all of Dumbledore's possessions, somehow not in the least depleted after the damage that Harry had wrought at the end of the end of the previous school year.

Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk, and Harry sat on the seat in front of it, facing the old man. "You wished to talk to me, Harry?" Dumbledore said gently, "I don't suppose I can hope that you have decided to change your mind and tell me where you were over the summer?"

"I have no intention of doing so, now or in the foreseeable future. I will also be returning there in the holidays over this year, and most likely next as well, provided things stay as they are," Harry said calmly. "No, I wanted to speak with you about something else, but I suppose in many ways what I want to talk about has been influenced by my decision to leave my aunt and uncle."

Harry looked upon the Headmaster, seeing disappointment in the hold man's gaze, but the guilt that Dumbledore was perhaps trying to arouse in him was non-existent. Sometimes it was a blessing not to be able to feel emotion "First, Professor, let me tell you this: my decision to leave my aunt's home was not hastily made. I contemplated it for a week, and it was well that I made the choice I did. Had I remained at my aunt's house, I would be dead. Where I was, I only barely survived."

He saw shock on Dumbledore's face, and almost felt proud – it was no easy feat to shock the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "That is … impossible," Dumbledore managed at last, "I created those wards myself! There is no way Voldemort could have harmed you there!"

"I never said it was Voldemort," Harry pointed out, "Although your assumptions are correct. Voldemort did indeed attack, and there was one way in which your wards could be breached by him. Have you heard of the Carcer De Malus, Professor?"

"The Carcer De Malus?" Dumbledore demanded, eyes narrowing at the reference, "It has long been held as a myth by the Wizarding world, but I have always believed there to be some truth in it."

"There is as much truth in the Carcer as there was in the Chamber of Secrets, and in both cases I found out the hard way. Voldemort can command the Carcer De Malus, and he attempted to use it to destroy me. Had he succeeded, this war would already have been lost. You could not have protected me from it, Dumbledore. You would not have known where to start.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped, "You are correct. I could not have saved you from that fate," he said quietly. "Leaving your aunt and uncle's house might have placed you in other dangers, but it would seem that you were right to brave them. Better danger than certain death."

Harry nodded in complete agreement. "You are right, but I was not going to a place any more dangerous than where I had been, though I will not explain that further. But right now we need to concentrate on more important matters – the Carcer De Malus is active again. I do not know exactly what that will mean; although I tried to research it over the holidays, I was unable to find many references to it at all. I wish to ask your permission to access the restricted section of the library to further my research."

"I will inform Madam Pince that you are to be allowed full access to the entirety of the library," Dumbledore promised immediately, and Harry merely nodded, choosing not to question the Headmaster's immediate offer of assistance. "If you need any other books – "

"I will purchase them myself," Harry interrupted smoothly. "Although if you know of any books that might help me, please forward their titles to me – I am at a loss as to where to search next." Dumbledore again looked startled by Harry's interruption, but didn't reprimand him for it.

"Of course," the Headmaster said instead.

"If that was all, Headmaster?" Harry questioned politely, making to stand up.

"Yes, yes, you will want to get a good nights rest before your first day at school," Dumbledore smiled politely and stood as well.

Just before he left the office, Harry paused again and looked back, "Oh … From what little I have managed to find out, now that that vile device has been activated, its evil will start to spread. It will infect the people around it, and those who are unprepared will become even more wary, more scared than they were before. Warn the Order – from now one they will find less and less support from the general populace, and they must be ready to fight off the infection when it reaches them. Those who do not believe are at the greatest risk, for they will make the least effort to defend themselves."

He did not give Dumbledore an opportunity to reply, bowing quickly and closing the door behind himself. The last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to question him too closely about the Carcer – he and Charles had already agreed that it would best to keep the knowledge of what had happened over the summer as close as possible.

When Harry reached the Gryffindor common room there was no one left awake, but Hermione had obviously spoken to the Fat Lady to make sure she let Harry in, so he had no problems there. She informed him that he would have to find out the password from someone the next day, because that much she would not reveal to him. Harry went on upstairs, having a shower as he usually did before bed, then hanging up his dream catcher and trying to sleep. He could unpack properly in the morning.

He was restless, and realised that he had become very used to Wraith's form lying beside him when he slept, so his mind turned back to his conversation with Dumbledore. The old Headmaster had seemed more than happy to help Harry in any way he could, and the cynical part of Harry's mind thought that this was because Dumbledore wanted Harry to trust him again, and would do all that he could to regain that trust.

Well, whatever his motives were, Dumbledore's aid would be very useful. Not only would he be able to investigate the Carcer de Malusin the Restricted section of the library, but he would be able to look other things that he would have otherwise been unable to do.

He eventually fell asleep, his mind running in circles as he thought about all of things that had happened to him recently. The last thought that he remembered before actually falling asleep was, _I miss Charles._

He woke in the morning to the sounds of others getting up around him, something that had become unfamiliar to him after spending months in a huge house where he rarely heard the sound of others, and always had completely privacy in his bedroom. He got up and headed for the bathroom, mumbling bleary greetings to her dorm mates, all of whom were in similar sleepy states. When he emerged twenty minutes later, he was feeling considerably more ready to face the new day, and a lot more presentable.

Harry was glad that Ron hadn't overreacted about his new clothes – the school uniform, while similar to the other kids', was at the same time very different. They fit a lot better and were made of more expensive materials than those that the rest of his year was wearing. Harry hardly paid any attention to the new luxury, because he had grown used to it over the summer … it was this, more than anything else, that set him apart from Draco Malfoy, and it was also why his companions didn't remark that he might be getting above himself, or buying into a superiority complex.

Harry didn't notice his finery, he wore it as if he was _meant_ to, which Draco Malfoy did as well, but Malfoy always behaved in such a way that it drew your attention to the fact that the things he owned were better than everyone else's. Harry didn't, he treated them as he would normal clothes, and everyone else took their lead from him.

He looked through his trunk, got out his bag and loaded it with the books that he needed for all of his subjects, because he didn't want to come back once he had found out what those subjects were. The charms upon the bag, after all, ensured that it didn't matter how many things he was carrying, he wouldn't know the difference.

Then he was ready to go downstairs to breakfast with the boys in his dormitory. They were all looking forward to being able to use magic again, but were nervous because they were sure that the work was going to be extra hard. Harry was looking forward to finding out who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was.

When they walked into the Great Hall, they headed for the Gryffindor table to collect their time tables from a seventh year Prefect. Harry and Hermione groaned simultaneously when they realised that they had potions first thing in the morning. "Well, that's going to _fun_," Harry remarked sarcastically.

Ron had Herbology, but they all had Defence Against the Dark Arts afterwards, which would _hopefully_ be a good lesson, depending on the teacher they got. "The new teacher is supposed to be coming this morning, isn't he?" Harry asked as he piled his plate with food.

"Yes," Hermione said, "I'm sure he'll be a fine teacher anyway. Dumbledore would have probably had a fair few volunteers from the Order, I'd imagine." Ron and Harry just nodded, because their mouths were full of food as they dug into their breakfast. "Honestly, you'd think that neither of you had ever been fed!" Hermione remarked, but she smiled as she said it.

Professor McGonagall came over before Harry could finish his mouthful and respond. "Mr. Potter, there are some people from the Ministry and the _Daily Prophet_ who want to speak with you. I would advise that you come quickly. You can get back and eat when you've finished with them."

Harry swallowed, "Can't you just tell them to leave me alone?" he asked plaintively, rising to his feet.

"You made your bed, Mr. Potter, now you must lie in it, as the saying goes," McGonagall informed him sternly. "Quickly now," she led him to the room that was behind the Great Hall, where the Champions had met back in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. Cornelius Fudge, Percy Weasley, Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter were waiting for him there.

Four of the people that he would most like to avoid in his lifetime, all in the one room. All that needed to happen now was for Voldemort to appear and try to kill everyone, and his day would officially be ruined. It was already approaching that state fast, what with Potions first and these four here.

"Harry!" Fudge beamed, seeming very happy to see him. He was back to trying to appear as the 'fond uncle' type figure, rather than the man he had been the year before, but Harry wasn't going to be taken in by _that_ again. Umbridge was watching him in dislike, and he returned her gaze with a hateful stare of his own. "You've been a very irresponsible boy, Harry, are you even aware of what you've put the Ministry through these last couple of months? Where have you _been_?"

"I sent a letter to Professor Dumbledore informing him that I was safe and happy enough," Harry said pleasantly, "But I'm not sure that he received it. It could have gotten lost in transition, what with all of the Death Eater activity recently. Mail is rather easy to intercept, after all."

Rita was jotting all of this down on a piece of parchment, and she looked up, meeting his calm eyes. Silently he warned her not to go off on one of her usual tangents, and silently she responded that she wouldn't.

"Really, Harry, I would think you would be more responsible than _that_!" Fudge exclaimed, obviously trying very hard to keep his voice pleasant. "Surely you got the _Daily Prophet _over the holidays and were aware that we were searching for you?"

"No, actually," Harry replied amiably. "I didn't have much contact with the Wizarding world at all over the holidays. I'm sorry if my absence caused you distress, but there's little I can do about that now. I will not tell you were I was, before you ask. It is my business, and that of my legal guardian, which you are not."

"You're speaking to the _Minister of Magic_!" Percy yelped, "How dare you not give him the information he requests from you? He's our elected leader in this time of trouble, and you should be doing everything you can to make his life easier!"

"Enough, Weasley," Fudge muttered, "Let me handle this … Mr Potter, surely you are aware that as the Minister of Magic I have a responsibility to the public, and that I am required to keep track of important personages such as yourself, therefore, I'm sure you understand that I am afraid I _must_ be informed of your whereabouts over the summer holidays."

"I understand that you have a responsibility to the public, _Minister_, but you are not required to look out for me. The _public_, as you call them, may have been angered by the fact that you lost track of me, but again, that is none of my concern. You being the Minister does not give you the right to demand any information of me, unless you wish to arrest me on some trumped up criminal charge, which I wouldn't recommend."

"You overstep yourself, Potter," Fudge growled, his anger showing suddenly through his mask of politeness before he could hide it again. "I must know where you were this summer, Potter. The public wants to know!"

"That is not my problem," Harry said evenly. "My whereabouts is my own concern. I can assure you that I was safe, but I have no desire to inform anyone of where I have been. I would not tell Professor Dumbledore, nor will I tell my friends. Only those who accompanied me through the summer will know where I was."

"And on what grounds do you justify refusing me this information?" Fudge demanded.

"I have already explained that you have no right to that information," Harry pointed out, "But otherwise, I refuse on the grounds of my own personal safety. The less people who know of my whereabouts, the more chance there is of my being in danger the next time I return there. I know full well that Voldemort has supporters in even the highest places, there is no guarantee that you can give me that will satisfy me as to the safety to the knowledge that you ask I entrust to you."

"Are you accusing _me_ of supporting You-Know-Who?" Fudge demanded, flushing angrily.

"No. But you cannot assure me that none of your higher members of staff at the Ministry are not, and you cannot assure me that if I were to tell you this, you would not inadvertently let slip to the wrong person what information I could give you. Therefore I repeat that I will not tell you where I have been. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my breakfast, otherwise classes will begin before I'm finished eating."

Without waiting for a response, Harry turned and walked through the door that McGonagall held open for you. Harry barely heard her whispered, "Well done, Potter," and he knew that no one in the room behind him had either. He did not see the surprised looks on the faces of the three Ministry employees, nor the delighted expression in Rita's shining eyes.

"The nerve of him!" Percy hissed angrily, Fudge and Umbridge nodding in complete agreement.

"Really, someone should discipline that boy!" Umbridge remarked in her girly voice, "I attempted it last year, but he remains stubbornly rude and obnoxious."

But Rita was just seeing the headlines when she reported these words to the public in the following day's _Prophet_. The public hated the Ministry, and the Minister had just been kind enough to provide her with more information that would incite public hatred. Perfect.

But Harry didn't hear or see any of them as he started to walk back to the Gryffindor table, "Wait a moment Potter," McGonagall murmured, and Harry came to a halt again, glancing questioningly back at her. She nodded to the staff table, and Harry realised that Snape was stalking towards them. He gave an internal sigh, and let McGonagall leave him to talk to Snape alone.

"Potter, Dumbledore has already spoken to me about your … less than adequate Potions grade," Snape informed him, looking and sounding sour, "And he has informed me that he believes it of utmost importance that you continue in both Potions and Occlumency. As such, I expect to see you at my office two nights each week to work on these until such time as I deem you competent."

Harry nodded quickly, not protesting, although he could see that Snape was waiting for a reaction. "Any particular nights, Professor?" he asked, when Snape didn't speak again for too long.

Snape scowled at him, then snapped, "Tuesdays and Thursdays, seven pm. Be prompt, Potter."

"Of course, Sir," Harry nodded, and was rewarded by Snape's look of surprise at the curtesy. When nothing else was forthcoming, Harry hurried back to the Gryffindor table to finish his breakfast.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked, just as Hermione demanded,

"What did you tell them?  
"I didn't tell them anything," Harry replied. "Fudge didn't seem particularly impressed by that, and Percy … well, Percy couldn't understand why I would deliberately withhold information from a member of Government. Rita Skeeter seemed quite delighted though …"

"They just wanted to know where you'd been over the summer then?" Hermione deduced and Harry nodded.

"What about Snape?" Ron questioned.

"I didn't get an O in Potions, but Dumbledore made him let me into the class. I have to take additional potion lessons, along with Occlumency lessons twice a week until he's satisfied that I can keep up with the class," Harry replied. "Hopefully he will actually try to teach me something this time," he added thoughtfully.

simply walking back to his seat and returning to his meal as if nothing had happened. "What did you tell them?" Ron asked him.

Just before the first class of the day started, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and what could only be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor limped into the room. Harry's first impression was that the man looked rather like an old lion; there were streaks of grey in his tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows. He had keen, yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp.

To Harry's eyes, he had the appearance of a powerful predator, but a protector of those under his domain, just as the dominant male in a lion pack did. This man would fight to defend those who chose as his friends and family, and when he did, his enemies would know the meaning of fear. He must have been an Auror at some stage, Harry thought, to have such a formidable power around himself.

"Ah, here we go!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, "Students, this is Felix McClaggan, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!" the newcomers face split into a cheerful smile and he waved around happily.

"He should be a good teacher," Harry remarked to his friends, "I like him already!" Hermione and Ron both seemed dubious, but they had to admit that that Professor McClaggan looked like he knew what he was doing. Soon after this, everyone had to rush off to classes. Harry looked forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he would have to live through potions first, and Snape hadn't looked very happy at the thought of having to teach him again this year.

He and Hermione went down to the dungeons while Ron went out into the sunlight for Herbology, with Neville and a couple of others. Neither of them spoke, just walked down with a grim determination to see who else would be in their class. The rest of the class were mainly from Slytherin and Ravenclaw, although Ernie McMillan had made it into the class, the only Hufflepuff. Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors there, which didn't come as any surprise to Harry, because he knew that not only were most of his class very bad at potions, none of them would want to go near Snape if they could avoid it.

There were seven Slytherins, including Malfoy, Nott, the other boy from the train, Pansy Parkinson and a girl Harry thought was called Daphne Greengrass. Daphne was standing beside Malfoy with a triumphant smirk on her face as she looked at Pansy, one hand entwined in Malfoy's. Harry supposed that they must be going out now, and Pansy wasn't happy to have lost Malfoy's affections.

Ernie came over to stand with them when he saw them come down, obviously relieved to have some people he counted as friends in the class. Among the Ravenclaw's was a girl called Lisa Turpin, and Ginny's ex, who was currently going out with Cho Chang, Michael Corner.

He didn't know either of them well, but he would probably get to know them better this year, if they were with him in potions. Everyone who wasn't in Slytherin would have to band together against Snape. "So you made it into the class, did you Potter?" Malfoy sneered.

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here, would I Malfoy?" Harry pointed out, "I'd be at whatever other class I had chosen to participate in."

"I'm surprised you were good enough to get in here–I've _seen_ what you're like at potions, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Did they make exceptions for you because you're _Harry Potter_, did they?" the rest of the Slytherin's tittered quietly, but Harry didn't even blink. He didn't care if Malfoy insulted him, he was beyond anger now.

"That will be enough, Malfoy," Snape appeared, black robes billowing, giving Harry a look of utter resentment. Harry kept his face devoid of emotion as Snape opened the classroom doors and swept inside. The rest of the class followed him more than a little nervously, and Harry, Hermione and Ernie sat together up near the back of the classroom.

"You are all here because you have shown exceeding ability at Potions. That is not enough–over these next two years you will at the very least double in ability if you hope to pass this subject. The furthering of your knowledge shall begin today. Mr Potter, can you tell me what time of the month fluxweed must be picked at if it is to be added to the Polyjuice Potion?"

Harry knew that Polyjuice was mentioned only near the very back of their current potions book, and was not a very well known potion–Snape was picking on him already. Thankfully, he did know the answer to this one, because he remembered it from when he was in second year. "The full moon, Sir," he said quietly.

Snape looked a little angry that Harry had been able to answer the question, as he obviously wasn't supposed to know the answer, and turned to the blackboard to write up the potion that they would be studying this lesson. "Begin," he said quietly when he finished writing.

Harry got out his ingredients and read through the steps twice, one quickly to get the overall gist of the potion, and then once slower, to make sure he knew what he was doing. Then he began to make the potion, checking and double-checking each step before he did anything to the potion.

His time with Charles had not been wasted; he had learnt more about Potions over the summer than he had dreamed about when he had been at school, and by the end of the lesson his potion was even better than Hermione's, and she was staring at him in surprise.

"Potter, remain after class," Snape barked as everyone packed up and got ready to leave. Ernie and Hermione shot him sympathetic looks as they packed up and left. The last one out shut the door behind themselves, leaving Harry alone in the room with Snape. Harry stood in front of Snape's desk, while the man sat calmly behind it.

"What did you want to talk to me about Sir?" Harry asked politely when Snape ignored him in favour of looking over the potions from the lesson.

"Potter, I hope you understand that you are in my class only on sufferance, if you give me the slightest reason to get rid of you, I will do so," Snape informed him coldly. "I expect you to behave yourself, for once in your life, instead of prancing around as if you own the class."

Harry just looked at him with an arched eyebrow, "I assure you, I have no intention of 'prancing around'," he said coolly, "And I will behave myself in your class, and all others."

"I will give you this warning only once, Potter," Snape continued calmly, still not looking at him, "If I have even the slightest cause to believe that you are usurping my privacy as you did last year, I will have you expelled from this school – not even Dumbledore will be able to deny me, do I make that very clear?"

"Yes Sir," Harry said quietly. "Also, since you have brought the subject up … I did not have the opportunity to apologise in any sincerity last year, but I do very much regret the incident that you are referring to. I assure you, I will not allow my curiosity to over come my manners again this year. I am … very thankful that you have allowed our lessons to continue, and I hope to be a far more amiable student this year."

While he watched the shock play over Snape's face at the sounds of those words, Harry's thoughts were on the fact that if he were still able to feel the emotions that he used to associate with Snape, he would have never been able to say what he had just then. He knew, though, that having a decent relationship with his teacher would make the year go much more smoothly.

For a very long time Snape didn't seem to know what to say, finally he shook his head slightly, "We both know that you are not in any way _sorry_ for your behaviour last year Potter," he snapped, "And that manners are beyond you. After all, the entire world worships you. That you apologised because the Headmaster told you to is of no account. You may leave, and I will see you this evening for our first lesson."

"Of course Sir," Harry said mildly, packing away his things with a quick wave of his wand and walking to the door. Without turning, just before he reached it, he added, "And Professor Dumbledore did not request I apologise to you. If you doubt my sincerity, you may ask him yourself." There was still no response from Snape, and Harry left the classroom to join his friends in the great hall again.

"You alright?" Ron asked as Harry walked up to join them. "Snape wasn't too nasty, was he?"

"No," Harry replied, "Just being himself. I have to go to him on Tuesday and Thursday nights, because he's giving me extra lessons in potions, which are going to be torture, and more lessons in Occlumency, which will be even worse, if that's possible."

Ron rested a hand on his shoulder in sympathy, and Hermione gave him a look that clearly said, _if you'd made an effort last year, this wouldn't be necessary_. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen, but things had been different last year. _Harry_ had been different last year.

They walked into the Great Hall together, and ran into Ginny, who had just come from Defence Against the Dark Arts. "Professor McClaggan is _great_," she told them without needing to be asked. "Fantastic. He really knows his stuff, and he wants us to do as much as magic as possible, unlike Umbridge."

"Cool!" Ron enthused. "I can't wait; we've got him next, haven't we?"

"Yes," Harry and Hermione replied as one, neither needing to check their timetables. Harry had been looking forward to seeing what the teacher this year would be like, and he was looking forward to having one the lessons himself. "Let's go and eat, shall we?" he added, "It'll make the time pass a little faster, and I'm hungry."

Hermione had her Defence book open on the table, clearly doing some last minute reading before going to the class. Harry didn't need to. He'd already memorised most of the book as it was, particularly the interesting points on strategy and spells. He thought that Hermione probably knew it as well as, if not better than he did, but didn't say anything about that, since she seemed to enjoy the reading.

"Let's go," he suggested, as the first students started heading for classes, and his friends nodded, standing up as he did and heading towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to see what this new teacher was really like.

---

Changes made 30th July, 2007.


	11. Defence Against the Dark Arts

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Eleven: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Harry and his friends were the first to reach the classroom, but the rest of their class was not far behind them. Malfoy was again part of the crowd, as were Nott and the other boy, whom Harry had discovered was named Blaise Zabini. From what he'd heard, Zabini wasn't really closely linked with Malfoy, he was a Pureblood, but not from one of the old families, only about seven generations.

This year, it seemed that Malfoy had decided he wanted to have the boy with him, and in Slytherin no one went against what Malfoy said. With Crabbe and Goyle gone, Malfoy was obviously looking for another couple of people who he could lord it over and keep with him all the time in case he needed them.

Blaise was reputed to be something of a scholar, and if he hadn't been in Slytherin, he might have been an interesting person to befriend, but now that he was hanging out with Malfoy there was even less chance that they would get to know each other very well.

Malfoy shot Harry a nasty look, but didn't say anything. All of Harry's friends from DA, or at least, those who were in his year at Hogwarts, were standing with him, hands on their wands and looking forward to the teacher arriving. Of course, while Professor McClaggan wasn't there, if Malfoy tried anything, they'd be happy to teach him a lesson.

Before anything could happen, Felix McClaggan appeared around the corner. His limp was only slight, Harry noted, and the overall grace of his movements made it seem even less. The man might have even been able to pass for a vampire, but Harry could smell his blood, and it was human. Well, he thought it was human. It was a little different to 'normal', but he wasn't sure exactly what the difference was, or what it might mean. It was not the same difference as Sebastian Snape, but it was different all the same.

Sometime later he would have to look into this, but now was not the time. He would actually be able to do magic for the first time since leaving Hogwarts the last year, and he was looking forward to it. He could always look in his vampire book later and see what it had to say about this blood scent thing.

"You are all very prompt," Professor McClaggan remarked, his voice soft and velvety as he looked around at his sixth year class. His tawny eyes held wisdom, and the proud set of his body denoted him as a warrior. Harry _knew_ that they would be able to learn a lot from this man, and looked forward to beginning. "That is good. Tardiness costs lives."

"What do you mean by that?" Pansy simpered. Harry wasn't sure_ what_ she was doing in this course. Probably trying to win Draco back. He knew that she didn't like Defence Against the Dark Arts much. Like most Slytherins, she believed that they should be taught the Dark Arts instead. Although he thought that she wouldn't have done particularly well regardless, she wasn't the sort to be good at either subject, Harry thought. The only difference with learning the Dark Arts was that she might actually be interested for a little while.

"If you are an Auror, which I take it most of you wish to become, given that you have picked the _Advanced_ course, you will be sent out to fight battles, or save people from dark wizards. If you are late for any reason, because you were simply too slow, or lazy, you will find those you were sent to save already beyond saving."

Harry looked the man over again. There was grief in his eyes, the grief of one who gives everything he can, but finds that it is never enough. "Come inside," Professor McClaggan directed them, pushing the door open with a firm hand. Apart from the limp, Harry couldn't see any wounds resulting from his work as an Auror-and who knew if it was Auror work that had brought about that limp?

He, along with the rest of the class, filed into the classroom behind Professor McClaggan and took their seats, Harry and his friends up in the front row, with most of the class gathered close around them, eager to see what the new teacher would be like. Malfoy and his group of Slytherins were up at the back of the classroom, watching with expressions of quiet scorn.

McClaggan began by taking the register, and once he was satisfied that all of his students were present, he tucked the parchment away and stood in front of his desk, looking over them. "It is good to see you so eager," he said, "You will need that, if you are to stay in this class. Before we continue, I will say this: I do not believe in going easy on anyone for any reason. The fact that you are sixteen means nothing to me, you are old enough to learn everything I have to teach you, and if you do not, or cannot, learn that, then you have no place in this class. _You_ chose this class, and therefore I expect you to be able to keep up. If, at any point in this lesson or any of those that follow it, you do not believe yourself capable of keeping up, or do not want to do something that I have instructed you to do, the door is there," he indicated it with a snap of his hand, "And you are always free to leave, and join the general Defence Against the Dark Arts course, which will be somewhat easier.

"I expect your best. If I do not get it, and you seem to have deluded yourself into thinking that you are keeping up with rest of the class, I will send you on your way myself. In this class, you will be learning to duel, you will be learning advanced spells that will help you in combat situations, and you will be learning how to cope in combat situations, on your own, and as a group.

"We are at war, always remember that. Lord Voldemort has returned, and all of you are going to see the results of this war in some point of your lives in the coming years. He will not go easy on you because you are young, and neither will I. Now, is there anyone here who would like to leave immediately?"

No one moved, and he smiled faintly. "You are determined, that is good. If you are not determined, you will not make any gains in your life, or in this subject. Let us begin. Please put away your books and take your wands," this command was greeted by subdued delight from the class, and those who had gotten out their books hastily packed them away, wands out instead.

"I understand that your education has been somewhat disjointed in the past; this has reflected in your marks. I know what you all scored in your exams, and frankly, most people fell down horribly in the practical part of your exams. I repeat what I said before: we are at war. Your theoretical skills would have once been, perhaps, more important than your practical ones. That is no more. Your knowledge and ability is no longer simply something that will bring you employment – now it may well become instrumental to your survival.

"Therefore, for the first month of our time together, we will be revising the main spells I believe you should know by this time at Hogwarts, and, more importantly, that your performance is up to scratch before we move into the course I have planned for you this year." Behind him, a piece of chalk began writing spells on the board, and McClaggan calmly gave them information on each one.

Harry used a quick charm on his quill to copy down everything that McClaggan was saying, he wanted to pay attention to the class for the moment. When he finished listing the spells, McClaggan got them to start practicing the ones that he had listed. Harry realised very quickly that most of the spells were ones that he had taught to DA in the previous year – he had done well as a teacher last year.

"This stuff is easy," Malfoy drawled near the end of the lesson, "I thought you said this was supposed to be challenging."

"You learn because I said you are to learn, Mr Malfoy," McClaggan snapped, his tawny eyes suddenly fierce, "Thorough mastery of the basics can save lives; just because a spell is easy does not mean it is useless. To use a basic spell in place of a more difficult one is often unexpected, and can therefore have better results."

The lesson came a close before Harry even realised how much time had passed. As everyone else was grabbing their bags and heading for the exit, McClaggan called out, "Mr. Potter, a word, if you will?" so he remained behind for the second time in as many lessons, walking up to the front of the class.

He discovered that he was almost exactly the same height as the professor, and met tawny eyes with his own green ones. McClaggan smiled slightly at him, "So, you're the star of my class, are you? I heard what your scores were like in the OWLs, _very_ nicely done."

"Thank you Sir," Harry said, blinking.

"Credit where it's due, boy," McClaggan replied calmly. "I heard that you have some society for Defence magic?"

"Yes sir. The Defence Association, we began last year when we were forbidden from learning or performing any practical magic," Harry replied. "You saw most of the members in my year today; there are some from the years below and ahead though."

"Good. I just wanted to let you know, if you ever want any help with that, I'm happy to give you a hand. My office is always open to you. I hope that you will continue your society this year as well – everyone needs as much practice as they can get," McClaggan told him. "If you want to talk about Defence in general, or Aurors, or anything of that ilk, feel free to come, won't you?"

"Thank you sir," Harry said, "I'll do that."

"See that you do. Dismissed," McClaggan nodded, and Harry hurried from the room to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who were loitering in the hallway. McClaggan hadn't assigned them any homework, saying that they wouldn't be getting any until the next month, when they were done with their revision.

"We've got a free lesson now," Hermione remarked, checking her time table.

"Excellent!" Ron said brightly, "I was thinking I might go and practice flying-" he cut off when he saw the expression on Hermione's face, "What?" he asked. "I've been waiting for years to have free time during the day!"

"We have that free time so that we can keep up with all of our homework," Hermione pointed out.

"I don't have any homework," Ron said, shrugging, "So I don't need to worry about it, do I?"

"Well, Harry and I do," Hermione announced, "Snape set us an assignment and I think we should start it now, it's due next week and it looks kind of complicated …"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron behind Hermione's back while saying, "Yeah, I guess we should. Ron, if you see any other members of the Quidditch team around can you let them know that we'll be having a meeting tonight in the common room? I need to find a time that we can do trials."

"Sure," Ron nodded left, heading in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"I'm glad to see that you're taking your studies more seriously this year Harry," Hermione told him, smiling. "Let's go to the library shall we?"

"After you," Harry replied.

---

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Katie, and the two Beaters, neither of whom Harry knew very well, Andrew Kirk and Jack Sloper, were sitting together in the far corner of the Gryffindor common room, undisturbed by the bustle around them. While most of them already had homework, it wasn't too bad, so they could easily afford to spend some time talking. Especially if that talk was going to be on something like Quidditch.

Harry looked around at the group that were what he so far had of his team. "Ok, so. Ron, you're the Keeper, but you need a reserve just in case, if we can find one. We have two beaters, Andrew and Jack-"

"We don't know if we'll stay on the team," Andrew spoke up, his voice soft, "If you can find replacements, we'll quit. We aren't that good, and we'll have lots of homework, we want to do well in school this year."

Harry nodded, "OK, that's fine, school work is important, this year even more so than last. We have one Chaser, Katie, and Ginny is going to try out for a Chaser–it would be good if we could find another two, because that way if she needs to, Ginny can play reserve Seeker for me. We all know how often I seem to get hurt, and I don't want to have the team at a disadvantage because of that."

Everyone nodded at that, they could hardly deny that Harry had a certain habit of putting himself in harms way, "So, basically, we need to find another two Beaters, two Chasers and if possible a reserve Keeper, just in case," Harry finished. "Like Alicia, I think it would be best if the whole team was present for the try-outs, so how about Saturday afternoon? That gives everyone in Gryffindor just under a week to decide if they want to go for it. Is anyone doing anything then?"

Everyone shook their heads, as Harry knew they would. There wasn't a Hogsmeade visit, and it being so early in the term, no one needed to take the day to study, and no one had detentions yet either. "OK, Saturday afternoon, meet down at the pitch at about three?"

Again, nods, and everyone dispersed, Ron and Harry going over to join Hermione near the fire. She already had her homework from Snape out, and Harry followed her example, much to Ron's disgust. He didn't have any homework yet, which he was very pleased about.

As he watched them starting on their Potions homework, Ron remarked, "Bet you two are glad that you didn't have Snape _after_ lunch."

"Why?" Harry asked, not looking up from his work.

"Didn't you hear?" Ron asked, the tone of his voice one of quiet delight, "His son got beaten up and sent to the Hospital Wing. No one is sure exactly who did it, but he had a bloodied nose, a broken arm and a whole heap of curses. Snape was livid, but Dumbledore wouldn't let him take house points from Gryffindor because there was no proof that we had had anything to do with it."

"I don't see why you sound so happy Ron!" Hermione snarled at him, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"If I find out who did it, I'll report them to Snape," he said quietly, "I know what it's like to be picked on by bullies, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I also know what it feels like to be treated different because of your parents. Look at how Snape treats me–he wouldn't be half as bad if I'd just had a different father, would he? Sebastian can hardly help who his father is."  
Ron shrugged uncomfortably. For a moment, Harry wondered if Ron had been part of that little escapade, but quickly dismissed the idea. Ron had been with him and Hermione all lunchtime. Ron was just approving because it got back at Snape. Harry didn't like Snape, he doubted he ever would, but he felt sorry for the eleven-year-old boy who was bearing the brunt of the school's hatred of his father.

He had to admit, the main reason that he cared at all for the fate of the first year student was because Sebastian Snape was somehow different from everyone else. While Harry was still trying to find out what was different about him, he would be a little defensive about him … but as soon as he found out what it was, he would probably lose interest … depending on what it was, of course.

"Hermione, I've got an assignment on the Draft of Peace to hand in to Snape tomorrow night," Harry said, looking up from his current piece of work, "Would you be able to read through it and let me know what you think? Just in case–I think I've pretty much got it covered."

"Of course," Hermione said, calming down a little now that Ron seemed at least a little apologetic about seeming so eager to hear of Sebastian being hurt. "Get it for me and I'll do that now." Harry raced upstairs and got the essay, bringing it down to give it to Hermione after a quick search through his trunk. Everything was surprisingly organised, for him, so it was easy to find.

He handed it to Hermione, then stretched. "Listen guys, I need some fresh air … I think I might wander down to the library for a bit, ok?" Harry said. He needed to get away from the crush of bodies in the Gryffindor common room. It was too crowded suddenly.

"OK," Ron and Hermione said uncertainly, "Do you want us to come with you?"

"Not this time," Harry replied. "I'm just going for a quick walk, I'll come back soon." His friends nodded. They weren't sure exactly how to react to Harry yet. Last year they probably would have insisted on coming with him. This year they were still trying to decide exactly what had changed in him, and what they should do about it.

There was also the fact that they would want some more time to themselves, or so Harry thought, because they were going out now. They would want some privacy. He would need to learn to give them some time to themselves, and this was one way of going about it. Besides, he needed to get away for a little while.

He left through the portrait hole and made his way down to the library. He did not pass any students on his way down, and reflected that this probably because it was getting close to the curfew. He didn't care, however, and headed down to the library.

He walked through the floor to ceiling shelving that lined the Hogwarts library. It was even more massive than Charles' library, and was somewhat more impressive when one realised that the only books here were magical works.

It did not take Madam Pince look to realise that someone intruded upon her domain, and she came stalking through the shelves like a hunting predator, searching out the ones who might abuse her precious books. She came upon Harry in the myths and legends section, examining a copy of the book that he had discovered at home, rereading the passage on the Carcer de Malus.

"What are you doing, Mr. Potter, out of your common room at this hour?" Madam Pince demanded, staring at him with hard, accusing eyes. "It's not long until curfew, and I'll be obligated to report it if you're still here then." She wouldn't just be obligated, she'd probably be happy to.

"I was looking for information on the Carcer de Malus, I'm interested in myths and legends at the moment," Harry replied, looking up from the passage he was reading and closing the book, "But I haven't been able to find much."

"That is because there isn't much to find," Madam Pince said, a little waspishly. Harry knew she hated not being able to find information. "Especially in this section of the library, considering the nature of that particular legend. The only books on it will be in the restricted section, and you will need special permission to look at them."

"I see," Harry said, "Well, I have special permission from Professor Dumbledore to research this, do you think you could point me in the right direction?"

"Do you have written acknowledgement of that young man?"

"No – I think Professor Dumbledore was intending to talk to you himself," Harry said, "He hasn't done that yet then?"

"No, he hasn't, and I'm quite sure he's not going to," Madam Pince sniffed, "Curfew starts in a few minutes young man, and you should get back to your common room!"

Harry left the library quickly; Madam Pince was obviously not in a good mood tonight. He had hoped that Dumbledore would have already spoken to her about the Carcer, but it seemed that the Headmaster had been distracted. Just before he reached the common room, however, he met up with Dumbledore, who had evidently just been there. "Ah, Harry! There you are," Dumbledore said, smiling benignly. "Would you mind coming up to my office with me?"

"Certainly," Harry said. He knew he would not be tired for hours yet; he would need a couple of weeks to get into school-time sleeping habits after those that he had had when at Charles. He and Dumbledore made their way through the school and up to Dumbledore's office.

"I merely wanted to inform you that I had a word with Professor Snape during lunch time today," Dumbledore said, "He agreed to call a casual truce between the two of you until such a time as your skills in Occlumency are enough to defend yourself, and to be fair in marking your assignments and assessments in Potions."

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said. "I told him earlier today that I would do my best to act within the bounds of rules and politeness when it came to privacy, but he did not seem in a mood to listen to that from me. I appreciate your stepping in as an added precaution."

"You're welcome, of course," Dumbledore assured him. Unspoken were the words that Dumbledore would do whatever it took to regain Harry's trust, and talking to Snape seemed to be the least Harry could get the Headmaster to do. "I also wrote a note for Imra Pince to allow you full access to the Restricted Section of the library for as long as you require it."

He reached under his desk and pulled out a neat rectangle of parchment, holding it out to Harry, who took it and scanned it quickly. "Thank you again Sir," he said.

Dumbledore merely nodded at that, then added, "Oh, and here is a note so that if you are stopped on your way to the tower, you will not be punished for being outside after hours," he said, holding forth another piece of parchment, which Harry again accepted, nodded an additional thanks to Dumbledore and headed out of the room without waiting for a dismissal.

Small actions like that spoke in volumes, Harry knew. He had to find small ways to show that he wasn't under Dumbledore's control any more – but he couldn't make too much of a point of it without drawing too much attention to himself.

Ron and Hermione seemed a little worried for him. "You were out after hours Harry!" Hermione scolded him, "We thought that you'd have been back long before now, otherwise we would have come with you! It's _dangerous_ out there; all of this has been done for our own protection you know!"

Harry raised a hand and Hermione halted to allow him to explain himself. "I would have been back on time, but I ran into Professor Dumbledore, and he wanted to talk to me. He gave me a note to justify being out after hours too," he told them reassuringly.

Hermione deflated at that, "Oh," she said softly, "Well, I suppose that's alright then. But we _were_ worried."

Harry smiled, "Thank you for worrying for me then," he said, "I appreciate the knowledge that if I didn't come back, there would be someone to report me missing." Ron and Hermione both looked unsure if he was being serious or sarcastic.

"What did you think of my essay?" Harry asked before either of them could put too much thought into the matter, and it served as a perfect distraction.

"It's brilliant!" Hermione said enthusiastically, "You really did a good job with it! If the teacher was anyone but Snape, you'd get an O, and some points, for such a well structured essay … as its Snape, you'd be lucky if you got an E," she added, sounding slightly deflated.

"I spoke to Dumbledore about that," Harry said mildly, "He said that he would look over any essay that Snape marked for me, and if it was marked down, then he would give it the mark that he thought it deserved, so hopefully I _will_ be getting an O for it, whatever Snape wants."

Hermione and Ron laughed at that, they knew that Snape would not be happy about it.

_Dear Charles,_

_The first day of school is over now, and I am already missing you, Wilfred and Lucy. It is nice to be back at Hogwarts, and catching up with all of my friends (and a couple of my enemies too), but it would be nicer still if you could be here with me. I am nervous that they will discover my secret … but I think that everything is going to be ok._

_My friends have accepted that I'm not going to tell them where I was, or who I was with, over the holidays, and that is a good thing. I would not have liked to have had to end the friendship over something like this. Dumbledore has also been understanding (sort of). I think the main reason that he doesn't force me to tell is because he wants me to trust him again, and that would hardly be an action to promote the trust that he wants._

_I am not going to give him that trust back until I am sure that he will not abuse it, and I'll make sure he knows it too. He has spoken with Snape on the issue of my homework, and on my treatment in class, so hopefully things will be ok – I wonder how far I can push him? Do not fear though, I will not abuse him as he has previously done me, and will only get him to do things for me that are necessary. I do not wish him to think me in his debt after all._

_Hermione says my essay on the Draft of Peace is every bit as good as you thought it was. I have extra potions and Occlumency tomorrow night in the dungeons, and will give it to Snape then. I wonder how these will go? Potions earlier today went better than I expected it to – evidently a summer with you has helped in that respect as well. I expect Snape will be surprised, and perhaps also a little impressed (not that he will admit it, of course) with my progress in Occlumency, and I judge that these lessons will not go on for too long. Much as he enjoys tormenting me, he does not enjoy having me anywhere near him, and will probably try to get rid of me quickly._

_On the topic of Snapes, something very unexpected happened at the Sorting Ceremony last night. Snape has a son! His name is Sebastian and he was put in Ravenclaw yesterday. Everyone was surprised by it. They all thought he would be in Slytherin (I did too). He got beat up at lunch today by some of the students with a grudge against his father. In some ways, I feel sorry for him – don't get too excited though. It's not an emotional feeling so much as a rational one. I know what it's like to be singled out like he's been, and I don't think that it is fair for him at all._

_But that is not why I thought to include him in this letter. Sebastian is different to the other people here, I'm not sure exactly how though. I sense his difference in the same way that I sense you to be different from the people around you. He is not like you, but in some ways reminds me of you. I will see if I can find anything in the book tonight, this mystery has me interested._

_Dumbledore has agreed to help with research into the Carcer de Malus, and has given me a permanent pass to the Restricted Section of the library. I hope to make some progress with that soon, and will keep you up to date with what is going on. Don't worry, I did not give him any unnecessary information, merely told him that Voldemort had tried to use it against me. I have decided not to tell anyone that I am trying to destroy it._

_Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is a man called Felix McClaggan. He is also different somehow, but again, I don't fully understand it. He is not the same different as Sebastian though … it is more confusing when you are not here to explain things to me, and I haven't had this exposure to humanity since the Carcer de Malus … I will research him as well._

_The Minister of Magic, along with his Junior and Senior Undersecretaries, came by the school this morning with Rita Skeeter (that reporter I told you about) to try and find out where I had been this summer. I didn't tell them anything, and I think we can expect to see a rather insulting article in the paper tomorrow, courtesy of Rita. Insulting to the Ministry, I mean, Rita knows better than to say anything bad about me unless she can prove it, after all._

_Anyway, enough gossip. I've only been away from home for thirty six hours, after all. I'll write more soon, I promise. Say hi to Lucy and Wilfred for me, and tell them I hope that they are well._

_Love to you all,_

_Harry._

Chapter revised 3rd of August, 2007.


	12. Snape

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Twelve: _Snapes_

The second day of school dawned bright and clear. Harry was woken up by Ron because he had nearly slept in, used to his holiday sleeping habits. "Come on mate, you'd better getup and have some breakfast," Ron advised him, "You've got a long day ahead of you."

"Yeah, I've got Occlumency and Potions this afternoon," Harry sighed, "Plus whatever classes we have today," this last was said as they emerged into the common room and Hermione looked up, answering primly,

"Transfigurations first up, then Charms."

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing his bag of books from where he had left it the night before, ready to head down to breakfast.

"Hasn't that still got all of your books for yesterday in it?" Hermione enquired. "You might want to repack it for today's classes."

"I keep all of my books with me, all the time," Harry replied, "It should make things easier." He explained briefly about the charms that been placed upon his bag to make it easier to carry around with him.

"The theory behind it isn't hard," Hermione said thoughtfully, "But, of course, you'd have to really careful about actually _laying_ the charms, because it would be easy for them to leak into one another and warp the effects. That's the problem with applying more than one charm to an object, we'll be learning about that this year and next, and practicing it. It's going to be interesting. Maybe we could try to apply the spells to our own bags, Professor Flitwick would be very impressed … if we could get it to work."

"Which I doubt, somehow," Ron muttered to himself.

"Well, it would be a lot better to learn to do it ourselves, rather than pay for objects with the charms already on them," Hermione pointed out, "You have to pay almost twice as much for pre-charmed objects as those that are uncharmed. I'm sure that bag cost a fortune, Harry." Harry gave an uncomfortable shrug, he had no idea how much the bag had cost.

"Really?" Ron asked, suddenly interested. Although the Weasleys' were much better off financially this year, the concept of being worried about money was deeply ingrained in Ron.

"Yes Ron, really," Hermione assured him with a sigh. "I thought that if I phrased it like that it might get through to you that what we're learning is going to be really useful for us in our lives after Hogwarts. I'll readily admit that some of the things we're learning at Hogwarts won't be all that useful–it's not that likely that we will ever need to make pineapples tap-dance, for example–but the theory of what we are learning is very important."

Harry smiled slightly at the expression on Ron's face as Hermione was talking at him. He wasn't sure that his friend was paying the slightest attention to what Hermione was actually _saying_ however. This dating seemed to be doing weird things to Ron, but Harry reflected that it was probably for the good. He just hoped that he never walked in on them making out.

The three of them walked down to breakfast with most of the other students from Gryffindor. In the Great Hall, Harry noticed that a lot of the students were watching him as if he might suddenly disappear in front of their eyes, and reflected that they probably thought he was going to revisit his feat of the holidays and vanish off to who knew where.

The _Daily Prophet_ arrived just as breakfast was coming to a close, and Harry was faintly amused to see that the front page was dedicated to an article about the previous morning. Rita Skeeter had expanded on the subject most magnificently, drawing as much attention as she could to the fact that Fudge was proving unable to 'get the Ministry into Harry Potter's good books'.

Rita had managed to keep Harry sounding cool, collected and very much in control, and at the same time portraying the Minister and his companions in a very bad light, making it seem as if they were making unreasonable demands upon a young member of the magical community.

"It seems that the public now wants to see you as a hero again," Hermione remarked, "And they certainly don't seem to like Fudge at the moment, if Rita is correct in saying that the _Prophet_ reports what the people want."

Harry nodded, "All to the good," he reflected, piling his plate with food as he perused the rest of the paper, checking for any information on people he knew about, or things that might concern or affect him. There was little of interest in the paper, save for the reports on the deaths and attacks, which took up most of the second half.

He knew that these messages would reflect on students at the school, but for the moment they didn't reflect on people he knew, or so he hoped. He hadn't looked closely, but he knew that he would not find his friends upon that list. From the relieved sounds throughout the hall, there were many others who were in his boat.

Sadly thought, there were a few students who had pale faces, and in one case, tears, and who were being comforted by their friends; the news had been less good for them.

Transfiguration was their first class of the day, and Professor McGonagall was waiting for them when they arrived. She nodded as Ron, Hermione and Harry came into her classroom, finding seats in the middle row of desks, not so close that McGonagall would be able to have her eye on them the whole time, yet not so far away that they would seem disinterested in the lesson.

While they were waiting for the rest of the class to arrive, Harry realised that McGonagall's scent was also not entirely human, in much the same way that Felix McClaggan's had. It took him only a few more minutes to work out the difference was – her scent reminded him distinctly of cats, and he quickly remembered that her animagus form _was_ a cat. Perhaps Professor McClaggan was an animagus too?

Just before the lesson started, he turned to Hermione and whispered, "Hermione, do you remember when you looked up the register of Animagi in third year?" when she nodded, he continued, "Was Professor McClaggan on there at all?"

Hermione looked surprised, then thoughtful, before nodding, "Yes, he was! Why?"

"It's nothing, I just thought that he might be one and wanted to see if I was right," Harry whispered.

"Quiet please," McGonagall said sternly at that moment, scowling at him. Harry realised that the door to the classroom had closed, and all the students were seated. Draco Malfo was again one of their classmates – it seemed that there was no getting away from him this year.

"Welcome class," McGonagall said, once she was sure that the conversations had come to a close. "You have reached the end of your compulsory schooling, and as you have chosen to continue Transfiguration, and at an advanced level, you are setting yourselves up for a lot of hard work and study. Should you wish to change into the general classes, you are welcome to. The workload eases somewhat in the lower level of this subject, although it is still difficult. I think you will find that very little is easy in your final two years of school.

"Should you at any stage decide that you wish to drop down to the less advanced course, you need only visit my office outside of class hours and I will arrange it for you.

"The first thing that we will be working on this year, which I think will also be covered in a number of your other classes, is silent spell casting. Please attend."

Harry paid very close attention to her explanation on the merits of silent spell casting and her explanations of how it worked. They spent most of the lesson learning the theory behind it, but toward the end she got them to practice some easy spells silently. No one had managed to get their spell to work by the end of the lesson, although several people, including Harry and Hermione, had come fairly close.

"I wonder if we'll be working on silent casting again in Charms?" Hermione remarked thoughtfully as they made their way to the lesson, "Professor McGonagall did mention that other classes would be working on it …"

"We probably will," Harry said, "But I'm more looking forward to next month when we move on to the advanced course in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I think Professor McClaggan will probably work on that as well. I think I might work on that with DA though – it sounds very useful."

Harry noticed that Draco and Zabini were both in the class as well, and that the other Slytherin wasn't paying very much attention to the jokes that Malfoy was cracking about Professor Flitwick being an 'over-sized fairy'.

"Come in, settle down," Flitwick called over the heads of the students, and Harry and his friends settled again in the second row back, gathered close together with members of the Hufflepuff, and some Ravenclaw, students. Flitwick looked over them all and beamed happily, "By choosing the advanced course, you've set yourself in for a fair amount of work, I'll warn you now. If at any point you find yourself struggling, and would like to move down to the somewhat easier course, my office is always open. Please bring any other concerns you may have to my office immediately…"

After this now familiar speech, Flitwick settled into the lesson. Just as Hermione had predicted, he did set them to work on trying to master silent incantations, and treated them to another long explanation of the process, which did at least vary slightly from McGonagall's.

Harry charmed his quill to take notes for him so that he could analyse any differences in the explanations later, and stopped paying attention to what Flitwick was saying. He thought he had a reasonable understanding of the process already, and spent the remainder of the lecture trying to silently summon his book across the desk.

The past by entirely too quickly for Harry's liking, and all too soon night had fallen. Harry ate a quick meal in the Great Hall with his friends, then hurried down to the dungeons. Snape was already in a foul mood, so he figured he had better be on time for his lesson.

At the top of the dungeon stairs, Harry bid his friends farewell, and they in turn wished him good luck, then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness of the dungeons, and heading for the office of Professor Snape. Reaching the door to the office, Harry knocked sharply, then stepped back slightly and waited.

A few moments later, the younger Snape opened the door. Sebastian looked up at Harry, who was a good deal taller than he was, with a frightened look, then fled past the Gryffindor, heading for the upper levels of the school. For a moment, Harry watched Sebastian's flight in surprise, before a voice spoke within, "Get in here Potter, and close the door."

Obediently Harry stepped into the room and pulled the heavy door closed behind him. For a moment, a faint alarm rose in Harry's heart, as he remembered the hours that he had spent here, trying to learn Occlumency from a teacher he hated, and the abuse that his mind had gone through. More than anything else he wished for another teacher, or even better, not needing to learn this in the first place. But the alarm was fleeting, and was deadened moments later.

"Sit down, Potter," Snape barked harshly, not looking up from his desk, where he was marking the homework that he must have set for the holidays. Harry stepped further into the office, not looking at the jars of preserved creatures and worse things that lined the office walls. They were obviously designed to intimidate, and they did a very good job of it.

Harry sat in the chair that was on the other side of Snape's desk, and watched the hated teacher scribble something demeaning on the top of an essay, and set it aside. Then Snape looked up, cold black eyes meeting Harry's across the table. There was cold hatred there, the hatred of one who felt exposed …

Harry supposed that having a student know how one had been treated at school wouldn't be very nice … but then, he had the knowledge that his father had been a bully, no better than Dudley Dursley. As far as _he_ was concerned, they cancelled out … but that obviously wasn't true for Snape.

"Let me make this clear to you right now, Potter," Snape spoke with a coldness that Harry hadn't thought a human voice was able to achieve, "If you go anywhere _near_ the pensieve, if you _look_ at it, I will expel you from my office, and my potions class, without any further reason."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said tiredly. It seemed that Snape was either pretending that Harry's words at the end of Potions class the previous day hadn't been heard, or he simply thought that Harry hadn't meant them. More likely, Harry thought, it was a combination of the two. "I have already told you that I have no wish or intent of invading your privacy."

"Very well. Clear your mind, Potter, and we will begin," Snape instructed, getting to his feet. Harry stood up warily, and struggled briefly to clear his mind of thoughts and emotions. Through the day, he had been trying this over and over again, and he was gradually pushing away thoughts of Charles and where he had been through the summer.

He had already reduced his workload, simply because of the absence of emotion, and reaction to emotion, but he also had to clear his mind of thoughts, which was proving slightly more difficult.

It had worried him that Snape would discover where he had been, but Charles placed a charm on Harry, bound with blood magic so that it could not be broken with any ease, that cleared thoughts of Charles himself from Harry's mind. It only worked on _people_, and then only people that the caster had blood from to bind the charm with. Lucy and Wilfred, therefore, were safe as well. Snape would never see any of their faces within Harry's memories.

The house, Charles assured Harry, could not be found, even if Snape found a memory of what the place looked like. The magic around the property would continue to protect it. If it hadn't been for this, Harry would probably be looking for a pensieve himself. Also, this way, Charles was safe if Voldemort did manage to breach Harry's defences and get inside his mind. The last thing that Harry wanted was for his friends to be targeted because of him. His friends at Hogwarts already were, but at least Charles, Lucy and Wilfred would stay out of it.

Long before Harry had gotten anywhere near clearing his mind of troubled thoughts, Snape was whispering a spell and then there was an alien presence within Harry's mind, digging roughly through his memories. For a moment, the memory of confronting Voldemort the year before flickered through his mind, and then it was gone, replaced by the image of Sirius falling back through the veil.

Grief twisted in Harry's heart at that image, one of the few that still never failed to raise emotion in his heart, but one that was having less and less impact upon him. He _felt_ Snape's triumph, and rebelled against giving the man any pleasure from the image, forcing Snape away from the memory, hiding it deep inside his mind, and lashing out with his wand.

The presence was gone, and Harry stood, panting softly, upright in Snape's office, facing the man and feeling a savage triumph in having pushed him away. "You were not quick enough, Potter, and I somehow doubt that you meant to repel me with a tickling charm," Snape hissed caustically. "Try again."

Harry wasn't ready, but Snape was already there. Harry fought back immediately, sensing that presence digging painfully through his mind, searching for specific memories. Somehow, Harry knew that Snape was looking for memories of Charles, and the summer. Snape's face loomed before him, the memories that flashed through his mind suddenly transparent and unimportant.

"_Stupefy_," he hissed, perfectly in control of his own mind and body. He knew what he was doing, and he acted without hesitation. Red light blazed across his vision and Snape tumbled to the ground, unconscious; the memories that had cluttered Harry's mind vanished in an instant, and his mind was safe again. "_Enervate_," Harry remarked, pointing his wand lazily in Snape's direction. Snape leapt to his feet an instant after coming to, and glared at Harry. "I meant to do that," Harry pointed out.

"I know you did, boy," Snape jeered at him, "Now you just learn to do that every time, and then to repel me when I am more intent on my goal. I have no qualms in admitting that the Dark Lord has far greater skill and power than I. If you can barely repel _me_, you stand little chance against _him_."

"Yes Professor," Harry ground out. The two invasions upon his mind had left him feeling touchy, and he could feel that beast of anger within him whispering as it began to awake, uncurling a savage head, looking for a way to escape. Almost as soon as he felt it, however, and acknowledged its presence, it faded away from him, leaving him again without the comfort of emotion.

"I know what you were looking for, Professor, and let me assure you: you will find no traces of my summer within my memories. They have been carefully guarded, and I doubt even Voldemort would be able to break through the spells that have been used to make sure that my location for the holidays remains uncompromised."

"What have I told you about using the Dark Lord's name, Potter?" Snape demanded, not appearing to have heard the rest of Harry's statement.

Harry sighed, "Professor Snape," he said quietly, "I have faced _Voldemort_ on no less than four occasions since my birth and survived each encounter. I do not believe that I need fear speaking his name, and will continue to speak it, no matter what you request of me. I have spoken with the Headmaster on this matter, and he has advised me that my course of action regarding Voldemort's name is appropriate. Please do not request that I stop using his name again, because to do so will only be encouraging me to break the rules that you have set down."

Snape glared at him, "Very well Potter. If I must put up with it, I shall. Prepare your mind." Without giving Harry any chance of doing so, he lashed out, entering Harry's mind with more force than he had ever used before. But Harry's mind rebelled almost instantly. The memories that were called up by Snape did not snatch at his concentration for longer than a second.

Again, Harry raised his wand and cried "_Stupefy_!"

Again, Snape hit the ground hard, and Harry brought him back to consciousness. Harry knew that he had done well, and he suspected that his vampire mind was aware of what was going on now, and was already compensating to give Harry the added advantage that he required to push Snape out.

Snape got to his feet, dusting off his robes. Even though Harry knew that he had done well, he also knew that Snape would never tell him that, and sure enough, Snape's words gave him no indication that he had done anything even remotely impressive or praiseworthy.

"Enough for the moment. Unfortunately we still have to work on potion making ability," Snape sneered at him, "That is going to be even more unpleasant than Occlumency has been. You will find the ingredients to the Draft of Peace in the cupboard, and you are to use that cauldron. As I recall, you got a zero for your work on that potion last year."  
"Yes Professor."

---

"How did it go?" Ron asked, as Harry came wearily into the Gryffindor common room in the late hours of the night. It was almost midnight, and he was completely exhausted. Once he had made the potion to Snape's 'satisfaction', he had been subjected once more to the pain of having his mind invaded.

"Fine," he said quietly. "But tiring. I'm going to bed." Without further words, he dragged himself up the steps to the sixth year boys' dorm and collapsed, fully dressed, lacking the energy to have his usual shower before sleeping, and fell into sleep deeper than that he remembered experiencing in a long time.

His mind, as it had the year before, felt a little weaker after being invaded so thoroughly by Snape. But this year, he knew, the dream catcher would protect him from any attempts from Voldemort to sabotage his dreams. That gave him some comfort as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

---

"Dumbledore, something has changed in the Potter boy," Snape said, as he stood before the Headmaster's desk, mere moments after he had sent Harry Potter away. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to discuss _Potter _with Albus Dumbledore of all people, but the Headmaster had demanded that Severus keep him aware of the situation in the dungeons.

"Really Severus? How so?" Dumbledore enquired, unsticking one of his vile Muggle sweets and offering the bowl of them to Severus, who waved them away impatiently. He would never understand how a man as unprofessional as Dumbledore had achieved the acclaim that he had … or been able to win Severus's own hard given respect.

"In Occlumency this evening, his mind was very different to how it was last year. He was unfazed by emotion, even when I found a memory of Black's death, and his mind was somehow _stronger_," Severus replied, hating to have to say something that might possibly be taken as a compliment to Potter. "He was able to repulse me with ease after the first attempt I made at invading his mind, and in each successive attempt, he was able to react faster."

"Are you sure that it could not simply be that Harry has practiced over the holidays?" Dumbledore enquired mildly.

"There was no finesse in his actions, Dumbledore," Severus snapped, "He has not practiced at all, or not enough to make a difference. No, some outside force is acting upon him. His mind is stronger, but in no way was he more in control of what he was doing. His emotions are hidden deeper than I was able to find, but that is not through practice … and I was unable to find any images of his time in the holidays, beyond brief glimpses of a mansion of some sort. I will assume that is the house he was staying at, but those memories should be among his most recent, I should have been able to find them without any effort on my part."

"But you couldn't?"

"No."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Potter told me that he had taken actions to prevent anyone from gaining knowledge of his location from his mind without his prior consent," Severus sighed. "But when I searched his memories I could find no trace of a spell that might have been used to block me, and therefore could not even begin to think on how I might get around such a block."

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, that goes one more hope of finding out where Harry was hiding himself. Still Severus, keep trying. I'm sure you'll get somewhere eventually. How is Sebastian going?"

"He's been to the Hospital Wing three times in the past two days," Severus hissed in reply, "That's more often than any other student in the history of my time at this school, Albus! At least, in the first week. If I find the ones who are responsible for this, I will see to it that they are expelled!"

"My heartfelt sympathies, Severus," Dumbledore replied. Unspoken was the remark that Severus had only himself to blame for his son's predicament. If he had been a nicer teacher, the students would not be trying to get back at him through his son.

---

Revised 3rd of August, 2007


	13. The New Professor

Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood 

Chapter Thirteen: New Professor

Harry woke the next morning feeling more refreshed than he ever had after one of his and Snape's sessions down in the dungeons. He looked up at the dream catcher that hung serenely over his bed, and smiled widely. "Thank you Charles," he whispered, and swung out of bed.

The other boys weren't up yet, and he could hear snoring coming from both Ron and Neville's beds. Dean and Seamus were silent sleepers, which was all to the good, because if they snored as well, Harry wasn't sure how he would cope. As quietly as he could, Harry stole across the dorm and into the bathroom to get ready for the new day.

No one awoke when he stepped out of the bathroom, brushing damp hair away from his face absently, without any real hope of controlling it, so Harry went downstairs and got out his homework from the night before, which he had had very little chance to look at, let alone start on.

Still, he couldn't leave anything for long, and he needed to get started on this as soon as he possibly could. He was sitting there, writing busily, when Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus staggered downstairs yawning sleepily, robes askew. "How can you concentrate this early?" Ron asked Harry, flopping into a seat beside him.

"Because I have to," Harry responded, "I didn't get anything done last night, remember?" Ron only shook his head, and a moment later Hermione came down, and gave Harry an approving smile when she saw him scribbling away.

"Which essay is that?" she asked.

"The one that Snape asked for," Harry replied, "This is only the draft copy, but when I get it done, could you have a look through it before I do the proper one?"

"Can you two talk about something that isn't homework? It's making me sleepier," Ron complained.

Hermione laughed, and Harry relaxed. He had almost been expecting her to blow up at Ron, but she seemed in a fairly good mood this morning, good enough that even Ron's complaints about homework didn't get a rise out of her. "Fine, talk to me about it at recess Harry," Hermione told him, and Harry nodded.

"Sounds fine to me," Harry agreed, "I just thought I'd better ask in advance." Hermione nodded in thanks, and the three of them headed down to breakfast, surrounded by a group of Gryffindors, all just waking up, not particularly ready for the day of classes ahead of them. "I've got Political Studies first," he remarked, checking his time table as they headed down.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Ron volunteered.

"Arithmancy," Hermione added.

"If Malfoy's in this class too, I'm going to hurt something," Harry muttered as they descended the staircase into the Entrance Hall, and walked into the Great Hall to the sounds of the school eating breakfast. Hedwig was perched on the back of a chair at the Gryffindor table, fluffing her feathers.

"You've got a letter, Harry," Hermione said, nodding to the owl.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. It was probably from Charles. Harry went over to Hedwig and she offered him a letter, tucked into a neat white envelope, Charles' penmanship in evidence on the front, addressing the letter to Harry. He took it off Hedwig and shoved it into a pocket. He would have to read it later. While he knew that his friends wouldn't ask him where he had been, there was also no need to continually rub it in their faces that he wasn't going to tell them anything.

"Who was that from?" Ron asked, but Harry just shrugged, and his friends quickly realised that he didn't want to hurt them by not telling them anything about it, but he wasn't going to answer even if they did push the issue.

"I'll read it later," he said, going for some toast.

Ron and Hermione sighed a little at that, and they decided to simply let it drop. "Well, I hope that Malfoy's not in your class too," Ron remarked, "At least I know he won't be in mine. He hated Care of Magical Creatures the last two years; no way he'd continue it." Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement with that.

"I doubt any of the other Slytherin's would be taking it either," Hermione remarked, "You're lucky in that one." Ron grinned a little at that.

"I know. I wouldn't want to be in a class with as many Slytherin's as there must be in Potions," he agreed, "I really pity you guys – I don't even have to worry about getting eaten alive by something that Hagrid finds anymore, now that Grubbly-Plank is teaching instead. He was a good teacher though," Ron added hastily, in case anyone thought that he was being disloyal to Hagrid.

Harry and Hermione both merely smiled. Hermione had always preferred the teachings of Grubbly-Plank, and had to constantly protect herself from Ron and Harry, who were able to react aggressively to _anyone_ saying anything bad about Hagrid, even her. She understood, of course – Hagrid was their friend, and she liked him as a friend, but he really wasn't teacher material. Perhaps it was better that he had left the job of teacher behind …

And Harry, well, his emotions had cooled, rather forcibly, he admitted, but they had, and he could accept that not all of his friends were perfect. Now that Hagrid had left for reasons of his own, he could admit that it was possibly a good thing. "We'll have to visit him soon," Harry remarked, "I haven't seen him since last year … and I wasn't in the best frame of mind back then. I would like to see him again."

"We didn't see much of him either," Hermione agreed, "Maybe we could go and visit him on the weekend." Her two friends nodded, before they had to hurry off to their classes. As Ron headed out onto the grounds, and Hermione disappeared off to Ancient Runes, Harry realised that, for the first time in his time at Hogwarts, he would be going to a class without either of his two friends.

Ernie strode up to him, "What do you have now?" the Hufflepuff asked.

"Political Studies, you?" Harry replied with a smile.

"Same!" Ernie said cheerfully, "May as well walk together, I suppose." Harry smiled. Pompous as he was, Ernie was a good man, and a good friend. Last year they had become better acquaintances through DA, and Harry had come to value the Hufflepuff's friendship, if not to the same degree that he valued Ron and Hermione's.

Neville joined them as they started up the stairs to the classroom. "You're taking Political Studies too?" Harry asked in surprise – it didn't seem Neville's cup of tea.

"Well, I wasn't about to get eaten in Care of Magical Creatures," Neville joked. Harry smiled, thinking how far Neville had come since the beginning of school. Harry had watched as Neville had finally begun to mature all through the previous year. He had gained more magical ability and knowledge in that year than in the four previous ones, and his self-confidence had trebled. While still behind most of their year in many subjects, Neville had become someone who Harry knew that he could–and had–rely on in a fight.

"Cool, nice to have some people to talk to," Harry grinned. "Ron's doing Care of Magic Creatures, and Hermione's doing Ancient Runes."

"My gran thought that it would be good for me," Neville explained, "She said I have to know about political stuff, because of all that crap that Fudge was pulling last year. She said that if the general public had been better educated, they wouldn't have let him get away with it."

"I don't know about taking it that far," a cool voice came from behind them, "But he _may_ have found it harder to gain support, and would have had a lot more dissension in the ranks if more people were politically aware. Why that might be the case is one of the things that we will be discussing in this class."

The three boys turned around to see a reasonably attractive, youngish woman walking behind them with a faint smile. She looked to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, with slightly narrowed grey eyes, very blonde hair and a wide, friendly smile. She probably would not be called beautiful, her eyes being to narrow, and her nose perhaps a little too stern, but attractive definitely covered it, and it was easy to see that she could win hearts with an enchanting smile.

"Who are you?" Neville blurted, staring at her. Harry had been wondering that too, because he had never seen her before in his life.

"I just started this year," she replied, "I'm taking over Political Studies from Professor Binns – he taught me when I was here, and he was _dead_ boring then," she laughed a little at her pun, and because her laughter was infectious, the three young men laughed as well. "I think Professor Dumbledore wanted someone a little more … stimulating to take the course this year, because he wants young people to be more politically aware. I think that he's intending on making the course compulsory for the younger years, and I have to admit, I agree completely."

She stepped through the three of them and led the way towards her classroom, her students following behind her as she continued talking, "It's a crime, statistics show that over fifty per cent of the magical population aren't aware that they can vote out a Minister of Magic, or, if they are aware that it is possible, have no idea how they might go about accomplishing said act."

"Hang on – we could have gotten rid of Fudge last year?" Harry asked.

"Had a number of factors been in your favour, including your being able to produce a valid reason, backed up by firm evidence why he was unsuitable, and had been able to get a majority of the Ministry to vote him out, and then a majority of the public _not_ to vote him in again, then yes, you could have gotten Fudge out of office," the woman replied. "But I severely doubt that such could have been the case, otherwise I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would have done something about it."

"I see," Harry said slowly. He wasn't sure that he did, entirely, because the woman had skipped over a lot of what was probably necessary.

"I'll go into it in greater detail over the year," she promised, "I'm Professor Rhiannon, by the way."

"Isn't Rhiannon a first name?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I hate my last name," she replied, "I refuse to use it. If anyone finds out what it is, there will be harsh consequences if he or she reveals it to _anyone_."

"What's your last name?" Harry enquired teasingly, and Professor Rhiannon laughed outright at that.

"I like you," she told him with a smile, and glanced back, as if to memorise who he was, then did a double take, "Hang on – you're Harry Potter!"

"Guilty," Harry smiled, and she laughed.

"Famous and likable, now there's a combination you don't see everyday," she remarked when she had her mirth under control, "Especially when it's me. I think I have a natural prejudice against famous people, so watch out … although you should be safe – I liked you before I realised you were famous." They made it to the classroom and found the rest of the students waiting for them.

"Stop flirting with the teacher Potter," Malfoy, half hidden by the doorframe and the mob of students, sneered.

Harry suppressed a groan, with some difficulty. Malfoy again. Was the Slytherin haunting him or something? It really wasn't fair; he seemed to be in all of Harry's classes. Professor Rhiannon didn't even seem to notice the comment, although Harry felt faintly uncomfortable with the implications of Malfoy's statements, he thought it better to ignore it. Perhaps if he didn't react, Malfoy would stop looking for a reaction.

"Come in please class," Professor Rhiannon said, pushing the door open and striding into the room ahead of them. Walking into the room was, for Harry, like walking into a set for some of the political demonstrations that he had seen on the news at Privet Drive on the few occasions that he had been allowed to watch it, and hadn't been concentrating wholly on looking for information on Voldemort.

All over the walls were posters with slogans about different political issues, and there were several newspaper articles that depicted Professor Rhiannon as being among the protestors. Harry knew immediately that the lesson was going to be interesting as he sat down and opened his bag to find his book for this subject.

He had been surprised to find that, on the list of books that had arrived for him after he had selected his courses, one of the several textbooks for this subject was a history of past mistakes on the Ministry of Magic, entitled _Ministry Misconducts and Cover Ups_, which he had read when looking at the mistakes made in the past.

The book was _very_ on the side of the 'oppressed' or whoever was protesting, and very anti-Ministry, and somehow Harry was fairly sure that he would find Professor Rhiannon to be likewise politically aligned. The other two texts books had a more contemporary basis, one being about current misconducts of justice, and the other, the only remotely pro-Ministry book they had been provided with, was about the Ministry as an organisation. Part of the book looked at the foundation of the Ministry, and the other looked at how it operated today, and what laws were involved with its governing, what it could change, and how it could do that.

It was a book that Harry would have to recommend Charles add to his vast library, because, when Harry flicked through it at the beginning of that lesson, not having had the time to before he came to school, it clearly outlined what movement the public could make towards getting rid of an incompetent Minister.

It was this book that they would look at to begin with. "Alright class," Professor Rhiannon said after she had called the register, "My name is Professor Rhiannon. A couple of you have already received the warning, but I'll repeat it for the benefit of those who did not: if you ever find out what my last name is and dare to repeat it in any company whatsoever, the consequences will be dire." Then she smiled widely, all threats forgotten, "This is my first teaching assignment, and I'm really looking forward to it.

"I'll be working on my methods of teaching this year, but so far I've already decided that I don't really like teaching 'from the textbooks', which we will be using mainly as a reference. I might ask you to read through bits of them as homework, and it's quite likely that assignments will be based on information provided within the books, but in class, I don't know how much I'll refer to them.

"You may have noticed from the layout of the room, I'm a political activist and quite proud of the fact. While training to become a teacher, I was arrested five times during protests against the Ministry, but was only ever held overnight because there were no real charges against me. I'm quite anti-Ministry, but I will endeavour not to force this opinion on you – forgive me if I'm completely ineffective in that goal.

"I'm only teaching senior classes this year, and I'm hoping that you guys won't make it too hard for me. Like I said, this is my first teaching position, and I'm a little bit nervous about it. I've been told that the majority of students here are really good people who I can expect a lot from. Please, behave in my classes, act with maturity and be pleasant to both myself and your classmates, so this course can be enjoyable for all of us. Do remember that other people may not be of the same political mind as yourself, and try to be critical of _all_ agendas, as there is no right or wrong, and there are good and bad sides to any political agenda, you have to be able to approach both sides with maturity and make an informed decision on any issue that is raised.

"I will never try to hide the fact that I'm anti-ministry, and if you don't like that, then the door is there," she indicated, "And you are free to leave. If you have any other problems with the course, either with my teaching style, or the content, again, you are free to leave. I do not believe in hiding what I am, and will not do so in the class any more than I would anywhere else."

There was a round of nods from the class. "So, to begin with, what is politics?"

Harry raised his hand, and she nodded to him, "Politics generally refers to governments, although this is not necessarily always the case. More specifically, it relates to the theory and practice of a government and policymaking," he replied. Charles had talked to Harry a lot about politics over the holidays, because he seemed to firmly believe that it was necessary for Harry to have an outstanding education in the subject.

"Excellent," Professor Rhiannon beamed, "Five points to Gryffindor! Now, at the moment, we'll be looking at the theory and practice of a Government, which was the first point you raised, Harry. Policymaking will be discussed at a later date. Let's begin with the theory of governments. Theoretically, what do you believe governments should be doing?" she asked, looking around the class.

Harry kept his hand down, although he was fairly sure he knew a couple of answers for this as well. Best to let someone else take the credit now – he didn't want to get labelled a know-it-all. Too many years of teasing Hermione about knowing everything made him wary of allowing himself to be put in the same boat.

Other people in the class raised their hands and offered their own opinions, and, when the rest of the class had run out of ideas, Professor Rhiannon went back over and summarized the various arguments. "So, in theory you think that a government should be a body that serves the people, is just, upholds the law, and is free of corruption.

"Good. That is exactly what a government should be – and is pretty much the opposite of what our Ministry, and most other governing bodies around the world are. Politicians are very rarely free of corruption, and are more concerned with their own gain, as opposed to the country's best interests.

"An example of this that you would all be aware of happened last year. The Minister wrongfully accused Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore of lying about the return of You-Know-Who, because he didn't want to believe it. It would threaten everything that he had achieved, and he convinced the rest of the Wizarding community that he was in the right. Had he been acting in the best interests of the community, he would have investigated the threat. Had he been just, he would have allowed Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore to voice their views properly, and these two facts prove that he has been corrupted by the power of the office that he holds.

"There are, of course, thousands of similar incidents across our long history. Not all of them are quite as far reaching as this one was, but all of them important in their own way, and all of them affect our lives at some point…"

Professor Rhiannon continued, outlining mistakes that various Ministry's had made and discussing the far reaching consequences of those mistakes. The class was more of a forum than a lesson, Harry quickly decided, because it was much more interactive than any other class he had attended at Hogwarts. Professor Rhiannon encouraged them all to voice opinions and always asked if anyone in the class wanted to take a shot at explaining before she took it upon herself to do so.

It was completely different from anything else he had ever experienced, and even after the first lesson, he had decided that he liked the subject. Professor Rhiannon released them without giving them any homework, another factor for which Harry was grateful. He went down to lunch, where Ron and Hermione were waiting. Hermione was glowing after Arithmancy, and Ron was fairly cheerful about Care of Magical Creatures.

"Well at least she doesn't like Fudge," Hermione remarked when Harry told them about Professor Rhiannon and his lesson. "Is she on the staff table?" Harry looked, but couldn't see his new teacher there, although Professor McClaggan was sitting next to Snape and apparently trying to engage the taciturn potions master in conversation. It wasn't working very well. Harry had heard that Sebastian was once more in the hospital wing, recovering from another over-enthusiastic round of bullying.

"I really do pity Sebastian," Harry remarked to Hermione quietly, "He's done nothing wrong except being the son of a man a lot of people hate."

Hermione nodded. "If I knew who was doing the bullying, I'd go and give them a piece of my mind," she muttered angrily. Harry nodded in agreement, but Ron remained silent. Ron was very good at holding grudges, and he was a long way from forgiving Snape for all the grief that the Potions Master had given Gryffindors over the years. While Harry was sure that Ron would not actively take part in the bullying, or necessarily condone it, he didn't disapprove either.

"I have to go and get something from the common room," Harry said, almost mechanically, as he rose to his feet. Speaking of Sebastian had reminded him that he wanted to check out his book, to see if it had any information regarding the difference in scents between people.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Hermione asked uncertainly, but Harry only shook his head and started out of the hall. He jogged easily through the corridors until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione had given the password that morning, after berating herself for not mentioning it the night before.

"Gesundheit," Harry said softly.

"Thank you dear," smiled the Fat Lady as the portrait swung open. Harry shook his head slightly. Only the Fat Lady would decide the password for the Gryffindor tower would be the German equivalent of 'bless you'. He hurried up to his trunk and touched his necklace to the special lock on the third compartment, which opened to show his hidden possessions.

Harry pawed through them quickly until his hands found the book on vampire abilities and let it fall open, thinking hard about what he wanted to know. Charles had told him very early on that if Harry wanted to know a specific bit of information, he could do this, otherwise he could spend hours searching for the correct part of the book.

The book fell open to a sub-section of the physical capabilities of vampires. Harry started to read, allowing himself to be absorbed by the words on the page, letting them run through his mind, sticking there where he could easily access them again. As a vampire, once he was aware of his abilities, he would remember them. That was how his mind was programmed, and if or when he became a full vampire, his mind would become more ordered still. The vampires had been created to be the perfect warriors, and the perfect servants, and fulfil these functions, they needed to be able to learn quickly and retain information with ease.

Of course, they had never lived up to these expectations, but they had retained the ability to order their minds with ease. Harry had only gotten the tale end of that – he remembered everything about vampirism, that was just something that he _couldn't_ forget, but he still had to learn to order his mind properly so that he could find anything in there that he was looking for. Through Occlumency, he hoped to achieve this in time.

Harry started reading over the page. It informed him that vampire eyes were a lot sharper than human ones, which he had known, that vampires could move faster, and could scent edible blood. After this, it told him that there were several other aspects to a vampires sense of smell, all partially tied in with this sense of what is prey and what is not.

_For example, a half-vampire smells different to a full vampire, a cross between prey and vampiric blood creates an unmistakable mix of scents. Vampires who are attuned with their sense of smell can also detect the smells of various illnesses, and can detect animal qualities in human blood (Animagi). Each human scent is distinctive, and vampires can usually come to recognise various humans by the smell of their blood._

Harry thought about this. Some of it, he had known. He could tell Lucy and Wilfred apart by the smell of their blood, and he was already coming to recognise Ron and Hermione by theirs, he had also deduced the part about Animagi on his own. For a short time, he wondered what Sebastian Snape's smell might be … and then he realised that it could only be one thing: a half vampire.

He had rejected this idea from the first, mainly because it was against all vampire law. Sebastian was only eleven, and it had almost been unacceptable to partially turn Harry when he had been almost sixteen. Harry shook his head, wondering who would have done something like that. It was unthinkable.

Certainly, he would now have to speak with Sebastian. Even if he hadn't felt somewhat sorry and more than a little sympathetic to the son of his most hated teacher, knowing that Sebastian was a half vampire changed everything. Vampires bond together fairly closely, and the knowledge that one of his very extended 'family' might be in trouble made Harry's blood boil.

He smiled faintly as he wondered what would happen if he came upon people bullying Sebastian. He would almost certainly hurt them badly. He wondered how far his protective instinct would go. After all, he and Sebastian were only half vampires, not completely part of the clan as yet, and as well, Harry's emotions were blanketed.

Harry reached into his pocket, suddenly remembering that Charles had sent him a reply this morning, and opened it up to read through it. It had a calming influence on his mind, as Charles told him that everyone at the mansion was fine, that life was going on as normal, and that he should look in his book for information about differing scents.

Once he had finished, Harry stood up and headed down to the library to begin his research into the Carcer de Malus, along with his homework. Madam Pince was not happy when she realised that Harry had a pass allowing him not just access to a book in the restricted section of the library, but access to the section in general.

Not much she could do about a note from Dumbledore though, so she reluctantly allowed him through into the Restricted Section, accompanying him as if to make sure he didn't hurt any of her books. She lifted up the barricading ribbon, and Harry walked through, looking around at the musty old tomes. He remembered his first journey here, back in first year. Then it had scared him, and the books had seemed hostile. Now, however, they seemed more welcoming.

Some of them still seemed scary, but overall, the atmosphere was much more welcoming. "Do not touch any of the books on this shelf," Madam Pince warned Harry, pointing to the back shelf. "They won't help you with what you're looking for, and they are very dangerous manuals which very few people understand."

"Yes, of course, Madam Pince. I'll leave them alone," Harry assured her. She gave him one final glare, then turned and stalked away. Harry, alone in the Restricted Section of the library, looked around. Where would he start? He had no idea what books he might find information in, and he didn't think that Madam Pince would be all that much help on that field either.

He walked over to one of the shelves and scanned the books for anything that looked remotely promising. Most of them seemed to be written in languages other than English, and he skipped over those that he could not read. Finally he found one tome that looked promising – it was written in English and was about dark myths and legends.

He took it out to Madam Pince. "I'd like to take this one, please," he said quietly, gently placing the book on the counter. Madam Pince gave him a look of pure loathing, obviously furious to have to let one of her most precious books leave her keeping. But she checked it out and Harry lifted it carefully and headed out of the library.

He took it with him up to the Gryffindor common room, retreating upstairs to write a quick note to Charles, letting him know about the book and telling him that he was sure that Sebastian was half-vampire. Harry knew that he would have to talk to Sebastian soon, but he was unsure how he might go about that. He told Charles his feelings on that matter as well, then sent the letter off with Hedwig and headed downstairs to join Ron and Hermione doing homework.

"What did you do this afternoon?" Hermione asked.

"I got a book out from the library," Harry replied, "Professor Dumbledore gave me a pass to get books out from the restricted section."

Hermione's eyes widened, "What are you researching that he's letting you have an unrestricted pass?" she asked, eyes glowing. Clearly she was already thinking about what she could offer to research to get her hands on such a pass.

"I have to talk to you about that, actually, but now is not the time or place," Harry replied. "It's something I'd rather not speak of, but you deserve to know. I'm researching something called the Carcer de Malus. It's really important; you know Dumbledore wouldn't have given me the pass unless he knew that I absolutely had to."

"The Carcer de Malus? Isn't that just a myth?" Hermione asked, "I read about it once … I think it was when I was reading up on the Chamber of Secrets."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Harry shrugged. "People often think of them as being similar. In a way they are – both of them were thought to be myths. Both of them are all too real." His friends must have heard something in his voice, because neither of them pushed the issue. They remained silent for awhile, before Hermione spoke again.

"If you want some help looking for information, then I'd be happy to help. I'm sure Ron would too," she offered.

"Thank you," Harry replied. "If I do need help, I'll come to you straight away." The other two nodded and let him change the subject. They must have picked up fairly quickly that he didn't really want to talk about it.

"So have you given any more thought to what time DA could meet?" Ron asked after a little while, when none of them had spoken for some time.

"Sort of," Harry replied. "I'll call a meeting sometime next week, when everyone knows what's going on with their Quidditch teams and that sort of thing. Friday night would be ideal, because we can go until late without having to worry about being tired the next day, or not doing homework."

"That's thoughtful of you," Hermione smiled at him, "It'll make it a lot easier for me to plan my homework schedule if that's the case …"

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who smiled back. It was good to be back with his friends, but already problems he hadn't anticipated were appearing. Sebastian Snape being a prime example.

---

Revised 3rd August 2007


	14. Weekend

_**I Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Fourteen: Weekend

It was Saturday afternoon. Harry was looking forward to getting down on the Quidditch pitch with his team and potential teammates for an afternoon of flight. The first week of school had passed and he was ready to put thoughts of homework and lessons behind him for a little while.

It was time for him, as the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, to oversee the selection of the new candidates. The team as he had known it was now firmly disbanded, only Katie Bell remained from Harry's original seven team mates. But Ron was still present on the team, even if he had only joined in the previous year, and hopefully one of those who would gain a position would be Ginny, and they would be able to keep two Weasley's on the team.

Harry was filled with desire with fly again with companions, to duck and weave between the Chasers, Beaters, Quaffle and Bludgers, rather than simply soar around in search of a Snitch without anything to prevent him catching it. Good practice as it was, Harry wanted more.

But as fate would have it, Harry would be required to wait a little longer for his desires to be made reality, and that by the time they were, his thoughts would be further occupied with other matters. He had come downstairs early, intending to inspect the Quidditch pitch and have a moment to fly on his own one last time. If he was also avoiding the common room to give Ron and Hermione time to themselves, he did not think of that aspect of his decision.

They deserved some time to spend together doing boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff, and Harry was happy enough to give them odd moments to themselves. It gave him the opportunity to spend some time on his own. As much as he adored his friends, there were now a lot of things that he simply couldn't talk to them about, and he needed time to think about these things. He needed to be able to escape and write a letter to Charles, or read his book on vampires.

Harry walked across the Entrance Hall and had almost made it outside when he heard a commotion rising from a corridor off to one side of Hall. As ever unable to keep his nose out of trouble, Harry turned and walked to the entrance of the corridor, ready to investigate. He had to walk several yards down the corridor before he reached a corner – his acute sense of hearing told him that the commotion was situated directly beyond the corner.

He set his broom down silently on the ground – on the off chance that someone tried to attack him, he would rather not have it damaged – then peered slowly around the corner. Only a yard or so from him, he saw a group of older students surrounding someone much younger, who was curled up on the floor.

Closer inspection showed him that it was Sebastian Snape, huddled on the floor, hands raised protectively over his face. Harry wasn't sure if the boy was cowering from physical or magical blows, but it made little difference. He recognised most of the older students as well. They were mainly in fifth or sixth year; several of them he recognised as fellow Gryffindors. At least one was a Ravenclaw.

As he watched, he realised that they were taking it in turns to shoot curses at the helpless first year, or deliver a blow with hand or foot, as took their fancy. The realisation nearly caused him to lose all poise and attack them with his own hands and feet. His teeth sharpened into fangs before he got control of himself again.

Coldly, he drew his wand and stepped into the light shed by a lamp on the wall just beyond the corner. There was open fury in his eyes as he prowled towards the fight. "What is going on here?" even to his own ears, his tone was icy and cold, rare emotion stirring in his chest. If he had any doubt that Sebastian Snape was a vampire, they were swiftly banished – no other creature could raise such a protective streak in Harry's heart.

The would-be punishers spun to face him, fear flitting across their faces. They had thought themselves discovered by teachers, but the moment they saw Harry, fear relaxed into mean grins. "Teaching the Snape brat a lesson," one of the students, a Ravenclaw from fifth year replied nastily, "Want to help out?"

Harry's eyes, however, were focused on Sebastian. The boy was looking at him with an expression of utter helplessness, and Harry knew that if he ever saw such an expression on the face of a human being as long as he lived, it would be too soon. The boy clearly believed that Harry was here to join in with his tormentors.

"Yeah Potter, Snape's never shown you any kindness – I'm sure you'd love the chance to get back at him," a Hufflepuff seventh year smirked. At the mention of his name, Harry noticed Sebastian's eyes fly to his forehead, finding the scar there. Hope suddenly appeared on his face – he knew of Harry Potter, and evidently thought Harry something of a hero … but almost immediately the hope was squashed by anger and betrayal. It was clear to Harry that Sebastian expected the person he saw as a hero was going to hurt him as well.

Harry bared his teeth slightly and strode forward, catching Sebastian's arm and pulling him to his feet, positioning the first year firmly behind himself and drawing his wand. "I have better things to do than terrorize an _eleven year old _boy who never did anything to me," Harry replied, voice dripping with venom.

The students stepped back from him, surprised by his response, and afraid of the cold tone of his voice. Harry ignored them, turning to Sebastian. "Sebastian?" he asked quietly, and the boy looked up, tears of relief welling in his eyes. Harry sighed, "Go to the Hospital Wing, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix you up. At the rate you seem to be going there at the moment, you'll probably get an honorary bed next to mine, on the off chance that you need it."

Sebastian nodded once, snatching his wand back from a Gryffindor boy, who was too shocked by Harry's response to stop him, and fled down the corridor to freedom. Harry turned his attention back to the students of his own age. They were all now glancing guiltily at one another now, and shifting from foot to foot.

Harry gave them a disdainful glance, "You disgust me," he said quietly. "You," he pointed to the Ravenclaw student, "You're from his _House_. You should be doing what I am, and stepping up in his defence, as Housemates are supposed to do! But all of you – you should know better. If I ever see any of you doing this again, the consequences will be most dire. You may inform any other people you know who follow this obscene pastime that I will do the same if I find _anyone_ bullying Sebastian Snape."

"What are you going to do?" the Ravenclaw demanded, all vestiges of friendship drying up in an instant. The rest of the group started backing away from Harry, wands clutched in pale hands – they all knew that Harry had a lot of curses at his disposal. The Ravenclaw edged back with them, "Come after us with your friends?"  
"That would be lowering myself to your standards," Harry sniffed, "No. I know you all, your faces are familiar to me, and you may inform your little friends that if I ever hear of anyone touching Sebastian Snape again, I will take their name directly to his father. I'm sure Professor Snape would be very happy to know exactly who is tormenting his son so."

"You wouldn't," the Ravenclaw whispered, face paling.

"On the contrary, I will," Harry snarled coldly, "So make sure it doesn't happen. If I find out that Sebastian has been to the hospital wing again, I will report you to his father, so make sure no one else decides to take up where you left off. I am giving you only this one chance to avoid punishment."

The would-be bullies, relieved at the opportunity to get away, fled. With a sigh, Harry turned to go on his way to the Quidditch Pitch again. He had no doubts that the entire school would know that he had interfered with the bullies and seemed inclined to help Sebastian Snape by the time the day was over. He wondered, briefly, what the general response to his act would be.

Before Harry could even pick up his broom, a voice came from behind him. "Potter." Just that, but Harry knew immediately who it was. He turned around slowly as Professor Snape prowled down the corridor towards him, robes swirling sinisterly about him.

"Professor Snape," Harry greeted in return, keeping his voice carefully neutral, wondering just how much of the exchange the Potions Master had seen.

"Why did you do that Potter?" Snape demanded, and Harry quickly concluded that Snape must have seen most of it. Possibly the Potions Master had been about to interrupt on his son's behalf even as Harry had come barging in.

Harry thought about his answer for a moment, then looked directly at the teacher who had long been one of his greatest enemies at Hogwarts, second only to Draco Malfoy. "Because I know what it is like to be punished for my father's crimes," he replied finally, stooping to pick up his broom and turn away, "And if you'll excuse me, I have to get to Quidditch Practice."

He did not look back, and therefore never saw the look of complete shock on Snape's face. It was a pity, because that was probably the only time Snape would have an expression like that on his face. Harry put the incident from his mind entirely as he continued on his way. It was time for Quidditch – he could think about the Snapes' at a later time.

By the time he had made it to the pitch, Harry had only just managed to put thoughts of Sebastian Snape and his father from his mind. At odd moments, the memory of Sebastian's haunted facial expressions resurfaced, however, beyond Harry's ability to push away. The rest of the team had not yet arrived, but he could hear them behind him, walking together with the new applicants for the team. By the time they got to the changing rooms, Harry had already changed into his Quidditch robes and was waiting for them.

Quickly, the few remaining members of the old team changed into their own robes. Jack and Kirke were absent, presumably wishing to distance themselves from their former team, since they were no longer involved in Quidditch, by their own choice. "Well, let's go and find some new team mates," Harry grinned at his companions.

Ron, Ginny and Katie grinned back at him and the four of them stepped onto the Quidditch Pitch. There were about fifteen students standing hopefully in the centre of the pitch. Harry walked over to address them, the other three at his back. "Alright, today we'll be holding try-outs for the positions of Beater and Chaser. We need two players for each position, and if we can find reserves, that would also be good.

"Ginny is going to be the reserve Seeker, but she's also going to try out for Chaser, so we'll definitely need one reserve Chaser … just so you all know what's going on. We're going to hold the Beater trials first, so could the people not interested in that position move to the stands and take your seats until these trials are over?"

Quickly everyone got themselves sorted out and the trials began. There were six people trying out for Beater, and Harry sent one of them into the air with a Beater's bat and a Bludger – he'd decided to start off gently. Later, if the boy managed to protect himself against one Bludger, he and his three team maters would head for the air themselves and see if the boy could protect them as well.

The first boy was a complete disaster, nearly taking himself out with the bat when he swung wildly at the Bludger. The second was a little better, but not by much. Harry found himself thinking of Jack and Kirke with momentary longing – at least they were better than these two.

The third applicant was a third year girl. She wasn't particularly heavy, in fact, she looked as though she would find it hard to lift the bat, let alone be able to whack a Bludger with it. But when she got onto her broom, she was transformed. She took off, bat held easily in one hand, and when the Bludger came at her, she delivered a whack that sent it almost the length of the pitch. Harry and the rest of the team went up into the air, and she managed to protect them against the single Bludger. Harry didn't think it was fair to test her with two Bludgers, since normally there were two Beaters.

"That was great," he told her as they landed, "What's your name?"

She blushed a little, and replied in a small voice, "Katharine Porter."

"Well done Katharine. If you'd like to stick around, I think you've got a good chance of making the team." She beamed at him and went to stand with her broom, which Harry had previously noted to be a Nimbus Two Thousand, a little distance from the other hopefuls. The first two boys had already left – even they realised that they had no chance.

They quickly finished trying out the rest of the Beaters. The only other person who was anywhere near as good as Katharine had been was a fifth year boy called James Savage. He had the same type of broom as Ron, which was still very decent. Harry got the two of them, along with the rest of the team, into the air to see how the two Beaters worked together with two Bludgers.

Harry was delighted, because they performed brilliantly. They were not quite as well as Fred and George, but much better than Kirke and Jack. Katharine was light and speedy, able to duck and weave around the players and keeping abreast of the Bludgers, ten delivering solid whacks to send them on their way. James was more solid, and did his best to stop the Bludgers getting anywhere near the players.

On a whole, Harry thought, they did very well. "Right, you're on the team," Harry smiled at them as they landed, "You're brilliant! Now, if you don't mind hanging around, we'll see what we can do about Chasers …"

By the end of the evening, Harry thought they had done rather well, as they made their way up to the castle. Ginny had turned out to be a better Chaser than a Seeker, which was good, since she was a decent Seeker, and they had four two others who weren't quite as good. One of those two, a girl called Jessica, was on reserve, so that Ginny could be freed to take on the position of Seeker if she had to.

"We'll have practice twice a week for the moment," Harry told his team, "I'll probably increase that when the first match is coming up, but for the moment, how does Tuesday and Sunday sound?" They all agreed, and Harry and his new team headed up to the Gryffindor common room happily.

Almost immediately, Harry was surrounded by angry Gryffindors, and it took him a moment to realise what was going on – they were angry because he had stood up for Sebastian Snape. That he had threatened fellow Gryffindors with _Snape_. He could see angry looks on their faces, and the nose reached such a level that he could no longer hear the words of what anyone was saying, or make himself heard.

He drew his wand and it let out a loud bang, which drowned out everyone and, slowly, silence was restored. Harry glared around at his housemates. "What's the problem here?" he demanded coolly. "One at a time," he added, and a burly seventh year decided to speak.

"What do you think you're doing? Putting Snape's brat over Gryffindors?"

"I thought I was sticking up for Gryffindor pride," Harry said mildly. "We are supposed to be brave and courageous … it doesn't take much courage to beat up an eleven year old who never did anything wrong, besides having a father that most people don't like. He isn't even in Slytherin; otherwise I might agree that it wasn't so bad. But he's a Ravenclaw – that says something. Says he isn't going along his father's path. My words from this afternoon stand – if I find out about anyone hurting Sebastian Snape, I'll take their names directly to his father, and that goes double if they're Gryffindors, because it goes against our house's principles to be involved. We are supposed to be the ones who stand up to bullies, not help them out."

At his words, the seventh year deflated and backed away, and the crowd swiftly began to disperse in embarrassment. Hermione beamed at him as she hurried over, having been unable to reach him through the crowd, "Thank you," she said fervently, "The Prefects have been trying to warn people not to fight with Sebastian Snape, but if _you_ say it, they'll actually listen."

"Happy to help," Harry replied, smiling disarmingly. "I know what it's like to be mistaken for my father. I get reminded of it every potions lesson, after all. This is partly my way of proving to Snape that I am not my father." He had forgotten that he had not told Hermione and Ron about what he had seen in Snape's Penseive, he realised suddenly, when they both looked at him questioningly.

"Come over here," he said with a sigh, leading them into a corner of the room, and explaining quietly what had happened the previous year. When he finished, he smiled, somewhat bitterly, at Hermione, "Perhaps now you realise why I never asked Snape to start my lessons again … I would be hard pressed to say which of us wishes I had not entered that Penseive the most."

"Why didn't you tell us that last year?" Hermione demanded, "And it _was_ very irresponsible of you…"

"Hermione, don't think I've beaten myself up about what happened more than enough?" Harry interrupted quietly. "I didn't tell you last year because I respected Snape's privacy … and because I was ashamed of my father … I would ask that you tell _no one_ of what happened either."

"We won't," Hermione said immediately, with Ron following suit a few moments later. Harry could see it in Ron's face – the momentary desire to bring Snape down. But when Ron promised not to, moments later, there was regret onis face, not rebellion. He would keep his silence.

"Well, that makes you sticking up for Sebastian make more sense," Hermione remarked. "It explains a lot, really … but I can't believe your father was like that, Harry … he was as bad as … well, he was as bad as _Malfoy_, just going in the opposite direction."

"I know," Harry sighed. "I guess it just hurt, realising that my dad wasn't perfect. I should have known that though, really."

Hermione laid a sympathetic hand on Harry's arm, and Ron shot Harry a jealous look, getting up and walking over to sit next to her and an arm around her shoulders possessively. Harry hid a smile and turned to his homework without comment.

The next day, Harry dealt with many of the students in the rest of the school glowering at him for supporting the Snape brat. After his words the night before, most of the Gryffindors stood by him, which was a relief. He was sure the rest of the school would get over it soon enough.

Potions, Harry reflected, was going to be interesting. Even if Snape had not seen what had happened in the corridor the previous afternoon, the entire school was buzzing with it, so he would have since found out about it anyway. Harry wondered what would happen – would Snape discard years of enmity on the events of a single afternoon? He didn't think so, but with Snape, it was impossible to be sure. He would not have to find out until his next Potions lesson, however.

His son, however, proved harder to avoid. After lunch that Sunday, Harry left Ron and Hermione to their own business and headed towards the library. Just before they entered the library, they found Sebastian, a book clutched to his chest, staring at Harry with an expression that said he wanted to talk.

"What?" Harry asked kindly as he approached the boy.

Sebastian looked at him hesitantly, "Why did you help me yesterday?" he asked quietly. It was the first time Harry had heard him speak – his voice was very soft and quiet, so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"Because no one deserves that," Harry replied quietly. "I know what it's like to be bullied, and I hated it. I hate bullies in general."

"Who would bully _you_?" Sebastian demanded, looking askance.

"Everyone in the Muggle School I went to before I came here," Harry replied, smiling slightly, "My cousin was the biggest bully of them all, and no one was ever nice to me, because they were worried about making him angry."

"_Really_?"

"Yes, really," Harry said, smiling again. "If anyone tries to hurt you again, remind them that you're under my protection." Sebastian blushed a little at that, but Harry was gone into the library before he could respond.

Sebastian looked at the place where Harry had been standing a moment before and sighed. He hadn't been able to work up the courage to ask why Harry Potter felt different to anyone in the school, after all, saying something might bring his … condition to light.

Although he knew that his father disliked the 'Potter boy', Sebastian had always been somewhat in awe of the young hero of the Wizarding world. The night before had told him that his awe was well placed, when Harry Potter had shown he was more than a famous face.

Sebastian walked into the library, relieved that he would no longer have to worry about being ambushed in the corridors. Maybe now the other first years in Ravenclaw would be friendlier …

---

On Sunday night, Harry called a meeting for the Defence Association in the Room of Requirement. When everyone was there and the door was shut, he smiled at the assembled faces. "Well, here we are, our first meeting of the new year," he said brightly, and had to pause as they raised a hearty cheer.

"Right," he said, "Glad to see you're still as enthusiastic as ever. For the first couple of weeks, I reckon it'll be easiest for everyone if we stick to how things were last year, and I'll call meetings on nights when I know that no one has Quidditch practice or other study groups, since for the beginning of the year, it might be a little hard to organise around everything. When things settle down, we can come up with a proper time and everything."

"Sounds good," Ginny said, from where she was sitting, one hand entwined with Dean's. Ron was shooting them annoyed glances every now and then, but neither Ginny nor Dean seemed to notice this. "Now, can we get the important bit? We talked about stuff the entire train ride."

Immediately, agreements started pouring in from all sides, and Harry raised his hands slightly, "Alright. Let's get started. For those of you not in fifth year or above, we've just started learning about silent casting, and I think that will be a great thing to work on for all of us. I'm sure you can all see the benefits of not actually saying a spell aloud, after all."

As they all got to work, Harry watched them with a quiet pride. There were an odd number of students this year, and so Harry decided he would not partner anyone else and instead walked around the groups, helping or giving advice when it was needed, praising their efforts where he thought they deserved them.

At the end of the evening, he bid them all goodbye with satisfaction. Although it would be a long time before they could actually try duelling using silent casting, several of the students could cast basic defensive spells without speaking. His companions, his students, were doing well.

With his fellow Gryffindors, he returned to the Gryffindor common room, to find Hedwig sitting on the back of one of the chairs, a letter tied to her leg. "She won't let anyone near her," a seventh year student complained. "If anyone walks past she snaps at them, and when someone tried to sit in the chair, she actually attacked."

"I'll take care of it," Harry assured the irate young woman, and held out his arm. Hedwig opened her huge wings and flapped over to land on Harry's arm; the moment she was there, he hurried upstairs with her, ignoring the enquiring looks his friends gave him. Upstairs, he took the letter from her and gave her some owl treats from a box in his trunk. "Hang around in case I need to send a reply?" Harry asked her, and she hooted in confirmation, settling herself on the end of his bed and fluffing her feathers importantly.

Harry opened the letter and scanned it quickly. It was from Charles, as he had expected. The news was interesting – Charles needed to meet with him to discuss the potion that he had found which might help to cure Harry's emotions. He asked to meet Harry on the school grounds, at the border of the Forbidden Forest near the Quidditch pitch, in two night's time.

Harry took out a fresh piece of parchment and wrote a quick confirmation. He gave it to Hedwig and stroked her gently, "Take this back to Charles?" he asked her. She hooted again and took off. Harry tapped his wand to the letter and it turned immediately to ash. He didn't want anyone to know that he would be meeting with Charles; someone might try and stop him.

He wondered what Charles wanted to talk to him about.

---

Chapter revised 4th of August, 2007


	15. Snapes

Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood 

Chapter Fifteen: Snapes

Harry woke early on Monday morning, and was one of the first students in the Great Hall for breakfast. He had Potions first thing today, and was interested in seeing how Snape was going to react to him, given the events of the previous week.

"Good morning Hermione, Ron," Harry greeted his friends when they joined him. Ron grunted and started eating his way through a large breakfast. Harry knew that his friend would be more talkative once he had eaten breakfast and woken up a little more.

"It was a great session last night," Hermione remarked brightly, "You were really good at explaining silent casting – I thought you might not have been paying enough attention to Flitwick when he was explaining it."

Harry merely smiled. "Yeah, I think we'll work on silent casting until everyone has a decent grasp on it, and then we can think about learning some new spells … I really want to see how it would go, having a silent duel, but we'll have to wait awhile before we try that."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Come on," she said a little while later, "We'd better get down to Potions."

"See you later," Ron sighed and stood up, heading out for his own class. Harry and Hermione headed down to the dungeons, being joined by Ernie Macmillan and a number of Ravenclaw students. The Slytherins sneered at them all, but Harry took no notice, and the others followed his lead.

They arrived at the classroom just as Snape himself showed on the scene, and Harry and Hermione took seats near the back of the classroom, as far away from the teacher's desk as they could get.

Snape looked up, and their eyes met across the dungeon. Snape scowled, and Harry lowered his gaze. It didn't seem like much had changed between them then, he reflected.

Snape set the days work on the board then went around the dungeon to collect the essays while the class started work. Harry worked carefully, mixing his potion according to the directions in his book. When Snape prowled through the ranks of students, criticising and sneering at those not in Slytherin, he left Harry and Hermione, who were working together, completely alone.

"I think that's his way of saying thanks," Harry muttered quietly to Hermione as they finished up with their Potion and took it to the front of the class.

"It looks like Potions is going to be a lot easier this year," Hermione said happily, and Hermione smiled at her absently. _For more reasons than you think_, he thought to himself. He couldn't care less if Snape was being three times as mean as he had ever been in the past – the emotional abuse would not touch him now.

"How'd it go? What'd he do?" Ron asked, as they met up.

"Well, he wasn't _nice_," Hermione replied, "He just ignored us all lesson. Frankly, that's better than he has been previously." Harry nodded in agreement, looking around to see where Professor McClaggan was – he was ready to get back to practicing Defence spells, even though he knew a lot of them already.

"Hey, teacher's pet," Malfoy hissed at him. Harry turned around with an arched eyebrow.

"What?" he asked mildly.

"Do you think that if you work harder this year, you're precious godfather will come back?" Malfoy asked, his voice so soft that only Harry could hear him.

"As far as I was aware Malfoy, nothing could bring the dead back to life," Harry said mildly, "At least, not the properly dead … Voldemort managed it, but he never actually died."

"Don't speak _His_ name, blaspheming scum," Malfoy growled.

"I'll call Voldemort by his name if I want to, Malfoy. You can't stop me," Harry said, and turned around to face the front of the class as Professor McClaggan called for their attention. He wondered if Malfoy was going to try and attack him, but it was only a passing thought. He was more interested in what spells they were supposed to be working on today.

In any case, Malfoy seemed to realise how stupid it was to try attacking Harry in the middle of a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, in full view of the teacher. Harry didn't see the expression on Malfoy's face, but if he had, he would have realised that Malfoy was going to try and get him back very soon.

The lesson began, with Professor McClaggan dividing the class into partners and setting them to practice spells together. Harry and Neville were placed together, and Malfoy was giving them sneering looks "I wish I could wipe the sneer right off his face," Neville muttered, glancing over at Malfoy.

"Don't pay any attention to him Neville," Harry advised. "He's an idiot. You took down Death Eaters last year; you don't have to listen to Malfoy being stupid any more. I wouldn't try and take him down in front of a Professor though – the time will come when we can get our revenge on Malfoy, but it's not now."

"I guess not," Neville sighed. "Oh well. May as well get started … it's not like we didn't do most of this last year in DA anyway …"

"Yeah," Zacharias Smith remarked, coming to practice near them with Hermione, who'd been partnered with him for the lesson. "Oh well. Let's get started shall we?"

"May as well," Harry replied, drawing his wand fluidly and aiming a hex at the cushion they'd been given to practice on. Zacharias, Neville and Hermione followed suit as they went through the spells they'd been given to work with for the beginning of the lesson.

The rest of the DA members brought their cushions over and they made a large group over almost half of the classroom. Professor McClaggan told them that they had obviously covered the spell enough, and got them working on new ones. All of them did their best to ignore Malfoy, who hissed insults at them whenever he could, to varying degrees of success.

"Since when have you been this good at not rising to his bait?" Hermione asked Harry, near to the end of the lesson.

Harry shrugged, "It's like he hasn't said all this heaps of times before," he replied, evading the question. "If he said something new, maybe then I'd react, but I doubt it."

"I think I like you better this year mate," Ron said, thumping him on the back. "At least you aren't biting our heads off over nothing any more."

_If only you knew the price I've had to pay for you to enjoy that_, Harry thought to himself. "I suppose so," he said neutrally, hexing another cushion. All too soon, the lesson was over and they were heading out of the classroom together and down to lunch. "You're getting a bigger group of friends now, aren't you Potter? Not afraid they're going to abandon you as soon as the tides turn against you?" Malfoy came sauntering up to them, flanked as usual by Nott and Zabini. "And aren't you lot afraid that you'll end up getting killed? I've heard hanging out with Potter can do that to you …"

"I'm not afraid they'll turn against me, no," Harry said, as everyone else in the group lunged for their wands. "They stuck by me all last year through Umbridge, so I see no reason why they'd turn away from me now."

"But even you can't deny that you have a nasty habit of getting your friends killed," Malfoy said triumphantly.

"I do not get my friends killed … but being my friend has dangers and will continue to have them for as long as Voldemort remains alive. My friends know that."

"Yeah, and we don't care," Ron nodded. "_Everyone's_ in danger as long as You-Know-Who is around, we may as well do what we can to help get rid of him!" Zacharias nodded firmly, as did the rest of the people surrounding Harry. "So you can shove off, Malfoy," Ron finished, wheeling around and getting back on his way to the Great Hall for lunch.

Laughing, Harry followed after his friend, slinging an arm over Ron's shoulder as Hermione came up on Ron's other side, and the others fanned out around them, heading down to lunch in a happy group.

As he looked around at the group, he reflected that his plan to try and mime having emotions was working well; although there had been a few questions about the obvious changes in his behaviour, no one had really pressed him too much about it. Hermione seemed to put it down to him getting more mature, and Ron just seemed glad that Harry wasn't as angry as he had been the year before.

He thought that this might be a good start towards getting his emotions back anyway, but he wasn't sure exactly. In any case, he would be able to ask Charles what he thought soon, and if he had to put a stop to the image that he had been cultivating, then he would do so. He wouldn't do anything that would work against his regaining of his emotions.

The rest of the day's classes passed without any particular happenings, and Harry returned to the Gryffindor tower with his friends to work on homework for the next day. He would have to go to the dungeons and live through the evening with Snape before he would be able to go and meet with Charles.

The next night when Harry knocked on the door of Snape's office, it was once again opened by Sebastian. Harry was glad to see that the boy didn't bolt at the sight of him today, instead giving a shy smile and a quiet "Hello."

"Hello Sebastian," Harry replied, trying to make his voice warm. "No more visits to the hospital wing, I hope?"

Sebastian shook his head quickly and hurried on his way. "It would seem that you have already corrupted my son into joining your fan club, Potter," he remarked, but there was not as much hostility in his words as there might have been otherwise.

"I did what was necessary," Harry shrugged. "I did not ask for him to join any fan club."

Snape gave him a penetrating glance, but let the subject drop. "He tells me that he has thanked you for your actions," he continued, and the words sounded painful as they came from his mouth. "As a father, I would also thank you. This does not change the fact that I think you are an arrogant, stuck up brat however."

Harry shrugged, "I did not expect it to," he said briefly. "And both you and your son are more than welcome; if we may commence with the lesson?"

Snape looked grateful that the uncomfortable conversation was over, and nodded briefly. "Clear your mind Potter," he ordered.

Harry had done his best to practice over the week, and thought he was more successful at banishing unwanted thoughts from his mind. When Snape entered his mind, he tried something different to his previous experience, and instead of repelling Snape with a spell, instead tried to push him away using the force of his mind alone.

It did not work as well as he had hoped; he was unable to actually push Snape's probe out of his mind entirely, but he did prevent the man from reading any of his memories. "_Stupefy_," Harry said quietly, and Snape was gone.

"You should have gotten me out of your mind much faster than that – why didn't you?" Snape demanded.

"I read something over the holidays that said it was possible to repulse someone from your mind without the use of a spell – I was merely attempting that feat myself. It didn't work as well as I had hoped," Harry replied mildly. "Still, I think it would be a useful skill to explore, because as often as not Voldemort is not within striking distance when he attacks me."

Snape still flinched at the use of Voldemort's name, but said nothing about the fact that Harry had used it. If he was surprised at the admittance that Harry had investigated the art of Occlumency over the summer he did not show it. "I see. In future, Potter, you will kindly stick to doing what you are instructed to do. When I believe that you are ready to attempt to repel me without the use of your wand, I will inform you of such. As your teacher, and a master of this art, I think I will know when it is prudent for such a course of action to be taken far better than you do."

"Yes, sir," Harry returned tiredly.

"Clear your mind, Potter."

The lesson progressed well from there, Harry thought. Despite Snape's insistence that nothing had changed between them, the Potions Master didn't yell at him nearly as much as he would have normally, and didn't put him down nearly so much either. Harry managed to make a credible potion, much better than anything he had done the year before, which he was fairly pleased with.

Snape returned both the assignment that Harry had done over the holidays, and the one that he had handed in the day before. Each had received what looked like a rather grudging O, and Harry, reading the comments, could not help but think that Snape had been slightly impressed by his essay.

"Professor, I have already redone all of the essays that you set last year, so instead of giving them to you one at a time, shall I give them all to you now?" Harry asked, near the end of the lesson. "It might make these lessons past faster."

Snape frowned at him, and then nodded, "As you wish Potter," he said, and Harry removed the pile of assignments from his bag. "Dismissed," Snape barked without looking at them.

Harry checked the Marauders Map to make sure there was no one around to see him leaving the Entrance Hall before hurrying out onto the grounds. Although the night was dark beneath a thin sliver of moon, Harry could see where he was going perfectly. There was still a light shining in Hagrid's cabin, and Harry assumed that Hagrid had returned from wherever it was that he was now keeping Grawp for the night.

Although he was briefly tempted to visit his old friend, Harry immediately discarded the idea. It was far too late, and he was very much out of bounds.

Also, Charles was waiting. Harry's nose had already scented the faint smell of the vampire's blood, and the moment he entered the Forbidden Forest, just to the side of Hagrid's cabin, he saw the outline of the vampire in the trees. "Hello Charles," he greeted softly.

"Greetings, Harry," Charles replied, stepping forward to embrace Harry warmly, and Harry returned the gesture. "How have you been?"

"Well," Harry replied, quickly bringing Charles up to date on the important parts of the previous week. He hadn't written to Charles about what he had done for Sebastian Snape, and Charles seemed impressed.

"It was well done of you," the vampire complimented. "And it seems to have helped, somewhat, in Professor Snape's treatment of you."

"He's still unpleasant," Harry said, "But at least he's slightly fairer now. In class today, he didn't give me a hard time. He wasn't _nice_, I think that would be too much to ask, but he wasn't horrible and didn't leer at me all lesson, or sneer at my work or anything."

"I'm glad," Charles smiled. "I think you also try to keep up your contact with young Sebastian – the fact that his mere presence inspires some emotion in you is very promising, and I think that is his vampire blood calling to you. It's a good sign. On that note, by the way, the potion I mentioned before looks like it will be fairly successful, but I need to get some of your hair in order to make it work properly."

Harry immediately lifted a lock of hair and severed it with a flick of his wand, handing it to Charles, who smiled. "Thank you. I'm afraid that it will probably take a full month to brew, but I do not think it wise to hurry with it." He paused for a moment, "You'll need to drink in a couple of weeks, won't you?"

"Yes. I intend to inform Professor Dumbledore that I need to leave the school for reasons related to the Carcer De Malus, and Floo to the Manor. Would that be acceptable? Or would they be able to trace us?"

"They might, so I will organise another place for you to Floo to, and get Wilfred to pick you up from there, just in case," Charles replied. "I look forward to seeing you at the Manor, as do Wilfred and Lucy. Perhaps you should try to stay for a weekend?"

Harry nodded, "Sounds good to me. I suppose you can't stay tonight?"

"I have been here too long already. You should get yourself up to the castle," Charles replied. "I'll see you in a few weeks – send Hedwig with the days that you'll be coming, and I'll organise something for you, alright?"

"Of course, thank you Charles," Harry replied, smiling, and gave him another hug. Charles returned it, and when Harry let go, he was gone, racing silently into the night, moving at a speed only a full vampire could accomplish. Harry shook his head and turned back to the castle, starting back across the ground.

As he moved, his sensitive eyes caught sight of a small figure slipping from the castle doors and starting across the grounds. Harry hurried out to meet the person, wondering who else would be out on a night like tonight. Since they were heading straight at each other, it was impossible to miss. It didn't take Harry long to recognise Sebastian Snape.

"What are you doing out so late?" he enquired, voice perfectly polite, as if they weren't meeting at nearly midnight, out on the grounds when no student was supposed to be out of their common rooms without permission after dark had fallen.

"Umm … nothing?" Sebastian said, looking at Harry with an expression of naked fear on his face. Harry was fairly sure that he knew what Sebastian was looking for – food. He was probably thinking that he could try drinking from animals, if he could catch them.

"I don't think that's it," he replied, not wanting to scare the boy too much. "But since I'm out here when I shouldn't be as well, I'll let it slide … if you come back inside with me. You never know what kind of monsters you'll find out here at night."

Sebastian physically flinched, and Harry realised that his words had been more than a little tactless. He was pretty much used to this vampire thing, but that wasn't to say that Sebastian Snape would be as well. "I've heard there are werewolves in the forest," he said, "Not a good place to be, really. Why don't you come with me and we'll have some hot chocolate or something?"

"Umm," Sebastian muttered.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Harry smiled warmly. Sebastian squeaked and nodded. Harry sighed – Sebastian would obviously rather be anywhere else, but that he couldn't think about that. He needed to talk to the boy, after all. From Sebastian's behaviour tonight, it looked as if the vampire who had partly turned the boy hadn't stuck around to tell him what was going on.

Then again, Harry felt that this shouldn't surprise him. Sebastian was, after all, only eleven, and no vampire in the normal course of things should have turned an eleven year old. He would tell Sebastian what he was, and find out what was going on here. If Sebastian needed his help, then he would give it.

He took Sebastian up to the room of Requirement. Inside, the room was smaller than it usually was, with comfortable armchairs squashed around a roaring fire, a table with cups of steaming hot chocolate between them. "Sit down," Harry invited, taking one of the seats and picking up one of the cups.

Sebastian sidled into the other chair and stared at the cup as if it would burn him to touch it. Harry sighed a little. "You don't have to be nervous," he said softly, trying to be comforting.

Sebastian just looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Harry sighed. "I'll make this easy for you then. I know what you are, but I don't know how you can _be_ what you are. Will you tell me what's going on here?"

"I – I don't know w-what you're talking about," Sebastian whispered, ducking his head again.

"Yes you do," Harry said gently, "You're a half vampire, and you can't hide it fro me. But don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. Tonight, you were sneaking out of the school to try and hunt animals to drink from, because you're starting to feel the need to drink blood again. I can tell you now – animal blood won't do anything for you. It needs to be human. What intrigues _me_ in this situation is why the vampire that turned you didn't tell you this himself …"

Sebastian hung his head. "Do you hate me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Hate you? Of course not!" Harry smiled reassuringly. "Sebastian, I already told you that I wouldn't tell anyone. I stuck up for you before, didn't I? You can trust me. Now, why didn't the vampire that turned you tell you about everything?"

"Why should he have? Vampires are murdering monsters and I'm one of them," tears were welling in Sebastian's eyes, beyond his ability to control, and they slowly started to fall.

"What? You really don't know anything about us, do you?" Harry asked, reaching forward and tipping Sebastian's head up with one hand. "Look at me, Sebastian." The boy looked up, and Harry bared his own teeth, allowing them to grow into wickedly curved fangs.

Sebastian gave a yelp of surprise and threw himself backwards. "If you're a murdering monster, Sebastian, then I'm no better. And if I tell anyone about you, now at least you can tell them about me as well. Does that make you feel any better?" Harry murmured.

"No, you can't be!" Sebastian shook his head violently. "You're the hero of the magical world! You _can't_ be a … a vampire!"

"I assure you, I am. But I'm not quite a vampire, any more than you are. I'm only half vampire, and I'm quite happy that way," Harry explained.

"How?" Sebastian asked, unable to comprehend the situation he suddenly found himself in.

"I was dying. A vampire who cared a lot for me changed me rather than let me die. Even though at the time I was not awake to condone his actions, I do not begrudge him then – had I been able to talk to him, I would have asked for him to do what he did. I am not ashamed of it. As to only being part vampire, he didn't give me enough blood to fully turn me – someday I may decide to change that, but for now, I'm quite happy the way I am."

"How could you _want_ to be one of … I mean, like me?" Sebastian demanded wildly.

"I suppose I knew what I was getting into. You'll have heard, of course, that no one has known where I've been over the holidays. I spent them with a vampire, who is my sixteen times great grandfather. He did not ever even mention my becoming a vampire before he turned me. It was enough that I was with him, I think.

"But through him, I learnt what vampires were about. I knew what I was getting into when I woke up and realise that he had changed me to keep me alive. I know about vampires, I know their history, and their laws … and under those laws, you should never have been changed."

"But I was," Sebastian said bitterly, "Can't be very good laws then, can they?"

"The punishment for breaking the law is only death," Harry said softly, "No vampire may change one who is unwilling to be changed. Even more importantly, no vampire may ever change a child. It is too dangerous for the child. You should never have been changed … _I_ should never have been changed, but special circumstances took hold there. Will you tell me what happened?"

"A-alright," Sebastian said softly, looking down.

_It was night, about two weeks ago. I was in my room at home – my father was downstairs, working on some potions. He had been out for most of the day, working for the Order. I know all about his true loyalties, he never tries to keep anything from me. I know that I'm supposed to pretend to be 'Slytherin' here at school, but it's hard, because I know I'm not._

_Anyway. I was half-asleep, listening to the Wizard Wireless, they were talking about the latest Quidditch scores. It took me a little while to realise that there was suddenly someone else in my room. I didn't really notice until they grabbed me, putting a hand over my mouth and biting my neck._

_I was scared. I kicked out, trying to make it let me go, but it didn't work. I kicked the Wizard Wireless though, and that hit the wall loudly. Father heard it, and came upstairs to see what was happening. He saw the vampire standing over me and attacked it with magic. He cut off its head – it was the only way he could get it off me without hurting me._

_I fell with the vampire on top of me, the blood from it's severed neck fell into my mouth, and I must have swallowed reflexively. I passed out somewhere around there, and when I woke up, I attacked father and drank from him. Not much, but it was enough to scare us both, obviously._

_I was terrified. I thought I wouldn't be able to come to Hogwarts. But father talked to Professor Dumbledore for me, and they decided that I must still come to Hogwarts. Dad bought me lots of Blood Pops to try and ward off the hunger, and for a while it was alright, but it wasn't long before I started hungering for more._

I was going to look for animals in the forest tonight, like you realised. I don't know what I'll do if I can't drink their blood … 

Sebastian finished his brief story and looked up at Harry. "That's what happened," he said.

Harry sighed. "I can only suppose that the vampire intended you not to survive the experience that night," he said. "At least he is already dead – the Vampire Council would have to hunt him down and take care of him otherwise. But that still leaves you. I guess I will have to help you out myself."

"Really?" Sebastian asked hopefully.

"Really. It would be a crime to leave you to try and fend for yourself. For a start, you don't have to drink much blood – the guy who turned me has a couple of human servants who know what he is and have agreed to let him feed from them. They let me feed as well. As a half-vampire you don't need nearly as much blood as a full vampire would. I'm sure that your father would allow you to drink from him. You can drink from a wrist as easily as from the throat of your victim, you know."

Sebastian just stared at him; it seemed that Harry had given him too much information for one night, so Harry decided to change his tactics, "Look, I've got a book that has a lot of information about our kind; it can tell you all about our powers and downsides, what we can and can't do. I'll see if I can get you a copy, that might be easier than trying to explain, since I'm still a bit new to this myself.

"Now, I think you had best get back to bed and rest. You can talk to your father in the morning. And Sebastian? I would ask that you didn't tell anyone about this, not even your father. If you need to, tell him that someone is helping you come to terms with this, but leave my name out of it. For the moment, I don't want anyone else to know that I'm part vampire. In return, I will not tell anyone about you."

"Alright," Sebastian said, and Harry held out a hand to shake on the agreement.

"Sleep well Sebastian. Meet me here at eleven on Thursday night, all right? You've got Astronomy on Wednesday, so you'll be busy then," Harry added. Sebastian nodded again, and they left the room together, quickly branching off to make their ways to separate common rooms.

When Harry arrived back in Gryffindor common room it was one in the morning and the only people who were still around was a pair of seventh years pouring over text books in an effort to finish all of the necessary homework for the next day. Harry wondered what was going to happen when he got to seventh year. Suddenly it didn't seem all that far away.

He waved briefly at them, and headed quickly upstairs. He was feeling exhausted. It had been a long night. He fell onto his bed and was asleep before he had even considered undressing, or getting under the covers. He certainly didn't notice that the dream catcher that usually hung above his head had been torn free of its resting place, and had been placed carefully on the bedside table.

Revised 4th of August 2007


	16. Dreaming

Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood 

Chapter Sixteen:Dreaming

_Harry found himself standing on an abandoned Mooreland. He was pacing back and forwards, his movements angry. He was getting nowhere. Something or someone was guarding Harry Potter far better than the previous year, and he could not get through to the boy._

Hang on; _Harry thought distantly, _why am I thinking about myself in third person?

But that thought was washed away in his plans. Somehow he must get someone else into Hogwarts. Not Severus. Severus was useful where he was and any actions against Potter from him could all too easily be discovered by the Muggle-lover. If Dumbledore got rid of Severus, then the last window into Hogwarts was closed to him.

_No. There would have to be another. One of whom Severus himself was unaware, so that in the questions resulting in Potter's disappearance, no one would realise what had happened. Yes. That would work. Now all he had to do was to wait for his family to arrive; he was frustrated – a night of fun with his family was just what he needed._

_He would think on who to send to Hogwarts, and how, over the next little while. The plan would have to be completely foolproof, as Potter had proved himself apt at escaping such traps in the past._

_There was the sudden crack of someone Aparating, and the first of his family arrived, hurrying forwards and dropping to his knees to crawl up to the hem of his robes, then crawling backwards and rising to take his place in what would soon be a circle of supporters._

_There was a slithering in the grass and he looked down to see a huge snake circling his feet. It paused and raised its head up off the ground, its huge muscular body pushing it up until it was face to face with him. "I am here, Master," it hissed at him._

"_I see you Nagini. You are welcome," he hissed in response, not noticing his servant flinching at the sound or the sight of the huge creature, which, it's greeting given, sank back to the ground and resumed its circling. More wizards appeared, coming forward to pay their respects to their master. He greeted them all, as they took their places in his inner circle._

"_Summon the others," he finally commanded, when he was sure that everyone had arrived. "We attack tonight."_

"_My master, where do we strike?" Peter Pettigrew asked._

"_Where I command!" Harry snarled._

"_Yes, my Lord, of course," Wormtail muttered, bowing deeply and hurrying on his way. Together, his close family would summon their more distant companions. He smiled, chillingly, as he thought about what he planned for tonight._

_It was time to deliver a stunning blow. He would strike at the home of Harry Potter – Little Whinging, in Surrey. He would completely decimate the town, destroy every building, every monument, kill every man, woman and child. Harry Potter could hide with his relatives, but his relatives could not hide when he was not there._

_Potter would lose his protection, and he would know where the boy was, should his plan to infiltrate Hogwarts go awry. Once Potter was away from the Muggle-lover's prying eyes, he would be vulnerable, and he would be easy to locate and capture. Once Potter was in his hands, he would step up his attempts to learn the contents of the Prophecy. And once he knew what information it contained, he would be able to eliminate Potter._

Then_ the Magical World would tremble, and fall at his feet, and he would achieve his goals. He would achieve immortality, and he would cleanse the magical world of the contamination that threatened to destroy all that was pure. He nodded to himself and vanished from the Mooreland that he had chosen as a meeting point for the evening._

_He reappeared in Little Whinging, Surrey, with a violent smile on his pale his face, scarlet eyes blazing with anticipation. He would make a _real_ impact here. Prove to the Muggle-lover that he was more powerful than ever before. Show Potter that he would not be able to hide any longer._

_Yes._

_But … what was that?_

So Potter. You are watching. Good. You will have the honour of watching what will follow here, and you will know, I trust, that it is only your former presence here that condemns them to death. _Harry suddenly found his consciousness free from that of Voldemort, the two of them separate within Voldemort's mind._

_Immediately he started to struggle, to try and free himself, to return to his own body, but he could not pull himself away. He was himself again, but he was trapped. Cold laughter welled up within the mind that both he and his enemy were sharing. _You cannot escape, Harry Potter. Occlumency can be used to keep people out of your mind, but it can also be used to keep people inside of it.

_Harry struggled harder, but he could not free himself. Realising the futility of his actions, he stopped fighting; the time to resume his battle would come in time, he would simply have to wait for it. In the meantime, perhaps he could learn something of interest to the Order. He turned his attention outward, still using Voldemort's eyes as his own and looked at the peacefulness of the town in which he had been raised. He had never been happy here, but they did not deserve to have Voldemort's wrath brought down on them. He could not dislike them that much._

_Soon, he knew, this place would be little more than a ruin, and that saddened him greatly. _Why do you do this?_ He thought at Voldemort._

Speaking now, Harry Potter? You _are_ getting bold,_ Voldemort sneered back at him. _I'm doing this because I can, Harry Potter, to show that you cannot hope to stand against me. It is futile to think that you can oppose the might of Lord Voldemort. Look, my family arrives.

Indeed, the Death Eaters were appearing around Voldemort, forming circles out away from him. The Inner Circle, those that Harry knew well, were standing closest to the Dark Lord, and out from them, in larger and larger circles, were the others, in order of their standing with Lord Voldemort.

"_Each of you, my Inner Circle, will go now, and take part of our force with you, place yourselves around the town, and attack at my signal," Voldemort ordered, smiling coldly in anticipation of the slaughter to come. Suddenly he turned his attention inward. _I wonder, Potter, if you know anything that will be of use to me? While you're here, I suppose I might as well check …

_Then Harry felt his mind being invaded. It was a hundred times worse than anything he had experienced with Snape … and Snape had not allowed him to practice getting someone out of his mind without the aid of a wand. Harry found himself desperately struggling to force Voldemort back, without much success. However, even when Voldemort tore into Harry's mind, the natural defences of a vampire's mind sprang into play. _What are you hiding, Harry Potter?_ Voldemort asked him softly, though Harry barely caught the thought over the agony of his mind. Just when he thought his defences would collapse, he was abruptly set free._

_Voldemort's attention turned with alarming speed back to the upcoming battle and Harry let out a sigh of relief. Watching through Voldemort's eyes, Harry watched as the Dark Lord raised his wand and sent off a stream of red sparks. At once, Harry knew, the Death Eaters would begin attacking from points all around the town of Little Whinging._

The Ministry will come, you know. You won't be able to finish what you started here,_ Harry told Voldemort, trying to be a distraction, so that at least the Dark Lord would not be able to concentrate fully on the coming battle. Voldemort, however, did not reply._

_Harry watched through Voldemort's eyes as the Death Eaters, led by their master, stormed into Little Whinging; families and houses collapsed without any mercy being shown by the followers of the Dark Lord. Harry was both sickened and saddened by what he saw, and by the gloating thoughts that Voldemort sent at him._

"I don't know what's going on Professor," Ron muttered, "Harry screamed, and it woke us up. We thought that it was another dream about You-Know-Who, but Harry didn't wake up, and he always has before. We actually tried to wake him up, but we couldn't."

"We even tried dumping water over him," Seamus offered, "But it didn't work either Headmaster."

"That was after Ron left to get you," Neville added helpfully.

"I came as soon as I realised he wasn't waking up," Ron confirmed.

"You did the right thing," Dumbledore said sadly. "I'm going to take Harry down to the hospital wing, you can come and visit in the morning and see if he's woken up."

"You make it sound like you don't think he will," Ron accused the headmaster.

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, no one hopes more than I do that Mr. Potter can be awoken," Dumbledore said slowly, "However, until I know what is wrong, I do not know what might happen. If it is what I fear, then perhaps he will not. But my fears are likely unfounded; it could be any number of things."

Ron looked worried – of everyone in the room he probably understood what could be wrong with Harry the best of the children … but even he had little idea what dark thoughts were running through Dumbledore's head. Conjuring a stretcher, Dumbledore floated Harry gently onto it.

"I would appreciate the discretion of Harry's friends in regard to this latest development until we know what is wrong with him," Dumbledore added softly. The four boys nodded quickly, and the headmaster was gone in a swirling of his robes, hurrying down the staircase with Harry floating after him.

"What do you s'pose that's about?" Dean wondered.

"No idea mate," Ron said, "But I'm sure Harry'll be fine. He's made it through worse before."

"I guess so, but did you hear his scream? It sounded as if he was dying or something," Seamus whispered.

"He's fine," Ron said firmly, but with more conviction than he felt. "We should probably go back to bed … lessons tomorrow and all …" but it would be a long time before Ron could sleep, with Harry's terrified scream echoing on his mind.

Dumbledore swept into the hospital wing, which woke Madam Pomfrey up immediately. "What's happened, Albus?" she asked sleepily, and then saw Harry Potter on the stretcher beside him. "Oh dear Merlin - Mr. Potter again?" she sighed. "Well, what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to summon Severus. I have reason to believe that it's an attack on his mind that is troubling him, not some physical ailment," Dumbledore commanded, and Madam Pomfrey nodded and hurried back to office. A moment later Severus Snape swooped out, a look of distaste on his face the moment that he saw Harry.

"Really Severus, you have to get over your enmity with Harry," Dumbledore said mildly, finding the time to chastise his Professor despite the gravity of the situation.

"You'll forgive me if I would rather retain it," Severus replied mildly. "What has Potter done now?"

"I believe that Voldemort is attempting to possess him from a distance," Dumbledore replied sigh a sigh. "He has been dreaming, and screamed in his sleep, apparently. His friends were unable to awaken him."

"Surely, Headmaster, you do not suggest that I look into his mind and try to help him?" Severus demanded sharply, "If what you suspect is true, then should I attempt to penetrate the boy's mind, the Dark Lord will be immediately aware of what I am doing and could all too easily realise that I am not as loyal to him as we would both rather I appear."

"I would not ask you to compromise your position, Severus," Dumbledore said softly, "I merely wanted you on hand while I attempt to enter Harry's mind and wake him."

"And if you fail?"

"Alert the Order," Dumbledore replied simply. "If I fail, I may be stuck with Harry."

"Are you sure that's worth the risk, Headmaster?"

"Very sure, Severus, for reasons that I will not tell you … yet," Dumbledore sighed. "It is Harry's decision, not mine, to give out this information. Even if it were my decision, I might hesitate to tell you, simply due to the dangerous nature of the information. Be ready, Severus."

Severus sighed and stood beside the bedside while Dumbledore sat down and took out his wand. "_Legimenes_," he murmured softly, and entered Harry's mind.


	17. Escape

_**Harry Potter and the Ties of Blood**_

Chapter Seventeen: The Escape

"Severus, I need to treat my patient," Madam Pomfrey snapped, trying to step around the Potions Master, who moved to block her way again.

"And I cannot allow that. The Headmaster called me to watch over him and Potter and I cannot do that if you are badgering me, woman," Snape snarled, "Once the Headmaster has finished with what he is doing then you will be able to treat Potter properly, but until then stay away and let me do what I must."

Muttering angrily under her breath, the Matron turned and stalked away. Snape turned his back on her without further thought and went back to watching Albus Dumbledore, searching the Headmaster's face for any sign of what might be transpiring.

It had been nearly an hour now since the Headmaster had entered Potter's mind, and Severus was beginning to feel worried. How long was too long to be in Potter's mind while he was possessed by the Dark Lord? Would Dumbledore be able to escape, with or without Potter? Snape's concern was directed at Dumbledore alone, even though he knew that Dumbledore felt the Potter boy to be important in some way.

Snape paced back and forth at the end of the bed as he watched Dumbledore with troubled eyes. It had been too long, something must have gone wrong for Dumbledore to not have broken free already. Snape knew better than anyone how powerful the Dark Lord was, but he also knew Dumbledore's power, and by his reckoning Dumbledore should have had little trouble in escaping the Dark Lord.

"Damn you Potter," he muttered suddenly, sweeping around the edge of the bed and approaching Dumbledore. "Damn you for putting him in danger." If something was wrong, then maybe his power would be able to drag Dumbledore free of whatever was trapping them. _My position in the Inner Circle can be damned, if Dumbledore is dead it will do little good anyway_.

Just as he was reaching a hand out to touch the Headmaster's temple, both Dumbledore and Potter let out loud gasps and two pairs of eyes snapped open and sought each other out, blue eyes filled with pity and regret, green eyes meeting them calmly.

"Headmaster, what happened?" Snape demanded, but Dumbledore didn't respond, he was still staring at Potter.

_Harry watched the slaughter progress through Voldemort's eyes, felt the bloodlust, the awful pleasure that was filling the Dark Lord. In some corner of his mind the feelings disturbed him, but stronger was the pleasure of knowing that he was feeling _something_, no matter how dark._

_It was not difficult for him to ignore the taunts that Voldemort was thinking at him, it was entirely too easy to not give the Dark Lord what he wanted. He could feel Voldemort's growing frustration at his lack of reaction to the slaughter. '_Aren't you going to beg for their lives, Potter?'

'Why should I?'_ Harry thought back, '_You will give them no mercy even if I did. The only thing that I would accomplish by begging is _your_ pleasure, and that does not interest me at all. Kill this town if you wish, I will feel no guilt, no fear of you for your actions tonight.'

'But I am only killing them because you lived here, because this was your home,'_ Voldemort pointed out._

'If you were not killing these people, then you would be killing others. Who is to say if you would have chosen this town anyway, had I not been raised here?'

'Perhaps watching your family die will be enough to change your mind,'_ Voldemort thought to him, the sick pleasure growing stronger, but Harry didn't respond. He had been distracted by a sensation of _other-ness_ entering Voldemort's mind, something that was not part of him or the Dark Lord, a separate entity. It took him only a few moments to recognise Dumbledore's mind, and a little effort told him that Voldemort was too taken up by bloodlust to have realised what had just happened._

'Harry,' _Dumbledore's thoughts were urgent, '_In a moment I will join my strength with yours, and you must not resist! With my aid, you will be able to escape Voldemort's mind, but it must be soon. It will not take him long to realise that I am here.' _Harry sent a faint tendril of affirmation to Dumbledore and turned as much of his attention as he could into watching the scene unfolding before Voldemort's eyes. He felt Dumbledore's mind close around his, and allowed his own strength to join with that of the Headmaster._

_Distantly, he felt Voldemort's sudden fury as the Dark Lord realised what would happen, and then he and Dumbledore were free, floating away from the Little Whinging and racing back in the direction of Hogwarts. As soon as he was sure that they were free, Harry began trying to distance himself from Dumbledore, putting up walls in his mind to push the Headmaster away and to guard against further attack from Voldemort._

_In the space of an instant he had expelled the Headmaster from his mind, but in that same instant he knew that he had been too slow, Dumbledore had seen what Harry had been trying to keep from him, had been too deep in Harry's mind._

'What has happened to you, my boy? I have never felt anything like this! Your emotions … your _soul_! What has happened?' _Dumbledore's thoughts were clamouring loudly, even as the two of them reached Hogwarts and were hovering beside their bodies._

'I will explain_,' Harry thought back, and entered his own body again._ The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Professor Snape leaning towards Dumbledore, one hand outstretched, although the man jumped back and let his arm fall as soon as he realised that the Headmaster had returned. Then Dumbledore's eyes were opening and he was staring at Harry with pity and regret.

"Headmaster, what happened?" Snape demanded, but Dumbledore didn't respond, and Harry knew that the Headmaster was still shocked by what he had seen. Something needed to be done, though, and if Dumbledore was unable to react just yet, then Harry would have to pass on the news.

"Voldemort attacked Little Whinging," Potter spoke instead, his voice steady, "He wiped the place out. Inform the Order, it would be better if they got there before the Ministry or other Muggles did, there may be some survivors."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Snape demanded.

Potter just looked at him, didn't scowl or start loudly proclaiming that he was right, just looked. It was Snape who looked away first. "If I was still possessed the Dark Lord you would know, Professor," he said shortly, "You would be able to sense it, both through your own link to him and with you Legimency. Professor Dumbledore is still in shock, I think, and will recover soon. In the meantime, the Order must be informed of what has happened and see what they can do to help."

"You dare to give me orders?"

"I _dare_ nothing. I am merely saying what needs to be done," Potter replied, still not growing angry like he would have in the past. "If you do not see the necessity in what I have said, then more fool you."

"Do as he said, Severus. There may be survivors still there," Dumbledore whispered, looking up. "Tell Poppy to leave Harry and I alone until I say otherwise; we have many things to discuss."

Harry could see Snape physically force himself not to question Dumbledore, "Of course Headmaster," was all the man said before turning and hurrying away.

"What's happened to you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked again, "Your mind was so … barren, devoid of humanity."

Harry looked away. The feeling in Dumbledore's eyes was too intense for him; somewhere deep in his mind he could feel the stirrings of regret. "You already know, Professor," he answered quietly. "You just don't want to put two and two together, and I do not hold that against you. I wish I hadn't had to."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked sharply, impatiently.

Harry turned back to look at the headmaster with a sad smile, "You like posing riddles for others, but you don't like it when other people do the same to you, do you? It's funny – I have never been more aware of the emotions in the people around me than I am now, now that I must watch and mimic, to try and pretend that nothing has happened, that I am still the same."

"Harry please, this is important."

"I know, Headmaster, believe me, I know. More important than even you realise, I think," Harry smiled again, briefly. "Very well – let me give you a better clue. I am not researching the Carcer de Malus simply because Voldemort has uncovered it."

"Sweet Merlin!" Dumbledore cried, the understanding coming to him with an almost physical blow. "Not that!"

Harry barked out a harsh laugh, "No fear Professor," he said softly, "I am still myself, still Harry Potter. I am in possession of my soul, but not even I could face that room and emerge unscathed. I have survived, and that is miracle enough – it would be too much to hope for that I be left unscarred by that encounter."

"What happened, exactly?"

"Exactly? You do not want to know _exactly_ what happened, and I remember very little of it. I will tell you what little I think you need to hear, Professor. I was nearly destroyed, it was closer than you could ever imagine, but at the last possible instant, when Voldemort's victory was seconds away, I escaped. My soul was nearly killed, Professor, nearly withered away to nothingness by the sheer _evil_ of that place. I may have escaped, but my soul is a weak thing now, flimsy. My emotions were stripped from me, and my will to live almost suffered the same fate.

"But I escaped before that could happen. My will to live still burns strongly but my emotions will take longer to recover. Until then I feel … almost nothing. When I looked upon your face, I felt what can only be described as regret, that you could feel your emotions so strongly when I cannot. It was a distant feeling, and gone now, but if I could still feel hope, I think I would feel it now. There _is_ still hope, and a good friend of mine is doing what he can to help me re-establish my emotions."

Tears gathered in Dumbledore's eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he looked upon the saviour of the wizarding race, speaking so calmly about what could be the most disastrous thing to have happened yet in this war against the Dark.

"All is not lost," Harry told him coolly, "But you understand now, I think, why I told you that you could never have saved me had I remained in Privet Drive all summer. I was able to escape only with the help of the one I lived with through the summer."

Dumbledore wiped the tears away with a shaking hand, "Thank you for telling me this at last," Dumbledore said quietly, sincerely. "I will set the Order to looking for any information on the Carcer de Malus now, anything that might help you destroy it. I will set Severus to working on a cure for you-"

"That will not be necessary," Harry interrupted him sharply. "In order to create a cure, Snape would have to know what is wrong with me, would have to see into my mind himself to know the true extent of the damage. With great difficulty, I have managed to keep that hidden from him during our Occlumency lessons, and I will not appreciate you telling others what I just told yous. I believe that I will be best served by keeping the knowledge of my affliction as close as possible – I would never have told you had I had any other choice. Ch- my friend is already working on a cure, and if anyone _can_ cure me, it will be him."

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, still shaken. "I will submit that you know best in this instance. If there is anything that I or the Order can do, you have only to ask."

"Thank you," Harry nodded. "Since you now know something of what happened to me over the summer, perhaps I can make another request: I may need to leave school grounds unexpectedly in order to visit my friend in order to be cured of the effects of the Carcer de Malus. Do I have your permission to leave if necessary?"

He watched carefully while Dumbledore considered; the Headmaster was obviously torn by the request. "I ask only because I believe it to be of greatest import in the battle against Voldemort," Harry ventured.

Dumbledore sighed and nodded his head. "Very well Harry, I will let all of the teachers know that you may leave the school at any time and not be barred by teacher or prefect – until you are cured of your … affliction. In return, you must let me know as soon as this happens and if possible give me some warning of your departure."

"Of course," Harry nodded, giving the headmaster a brief smile. "I will be leaving the school the weekend after next, then. Please do not try to track me in any way, it will not work. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go back to my dormitory. I want to get some proper sleep tonight, and there isn't anything wrong with me. The danger is long past."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded, "You will keep me updated, won't you Harry?"

"I'll tell you anything I think you need to be aware of," Harry allowed, getting to his feet. "Thank you for getting me out of there, Professor."

"No thanks are needed dear boy," Dumbledore replied sadly. "And … I'm sorry for what happened."

"So am I," Harry nodded, and then paused, "Well, I suppose I am." He left the hospital wing quickly and hurried back to the Gryffindor dormitory. When he reached the tower, he found Ron and Hermione both still awake, waiting for him in the common room, staring into the fire.

"Harry!" they both exclaimed when he crawled in through the portrait hole. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, getting to his feet, "Tired. It was Voldemort," he added in response to the questioning looks, "He attacked Little Whinging – the Dursley's and everyone else in the town are dead or in hiding. The Order is going to investigate and start cleaning up and I imagine that the Ministry will join them there soon."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione rushed over to hug him tightly. "I'm so sorry! You must feel horrible."

Harry considered, trying to think what he would feel if he could. "I just feel tired, Hermione," he said, and she pulled away from him, hearing the sudden coldness in his voice. "Just very, very tired. I'm going to back to bed; the danger is over for tonight."

He didn't wait for either of them to respond, hurrying up the stairs on his own and slipping through the drapes around his bed. When he looked above his bed at the place where the dream catcher usually hung, it wasn't there. Charles' protection hadn't failed, merely been removed. It did not take him long to find the dream catcher again, it was lying on his bedside table.

A quick spell was all that was needed to replace it, but this time he used several more spells to make sure that it could not be easily removed again. Tomorrow he could investigate how it had been moved in the first place, but for now he was tired.

He curled up in the bed and was asleep in seconds.

_Dear Charles,_

_The dream catcher was moved yesterday and I feel asleep without it. Voldemort got to me when he attacked Little Whinging (I expect that you have already heard about that, so I will not bore you with the details again). Dumbledore came after me and was able to get me free of Voldemort's mind, but he learned about the effects that the Carcer de Malus has had on me._

_In light of that, he has agreed that I may leave the grounds whenever I deem necessary, so visiting you will be much easier for the time being. The Headmaster wanted to know if there has been any progress made on the cure, and I am interested in getting an update myself. It is difficult, sometimes, remembering to pretend I have emotions I do not. If nothing else, I will see you in two weeks._

_No other real news to report, except that I'm short on sleep after the events of last night, but that was only to be expected. I had better get down to the great hall, but I wanted to send this before I went to breakfast._

_Love,  
Harry._

Revised 4th August 2007


	18. Discontinued Note

Hi guys,

This is a notice to tell you that I've officially abandoned this story. I have decided instead to re-write it completely and will be reposting the new version as a different story because it will change a lot. I will leave this version up so that fans of the old story can still go back and read it the way it was.

I sincerely hope that you will all read the new version – the overall story shouldn't change too much, but the way I approach it will be much different. I will try to take on some aspects of the sixth and seventh books, but I'm not entirely sure how many of those I will chose to include.

Hopefully the new story will end up being finished; I'm writing it while at work so I don't know exactly how much time I'll have to write, although at least I won't be constantly distracted by WoW.

Anyway, nothing more really to say here. I hope you all read the new story when I start putting up – the first few chapters will be mostly the same and will be posted reasonably quickly, I hope. The bigger changes are primarily from chapter three-four onwards (although major changes of direction in the story line won't come about until after Harry has his run-in with the Carcer De Malus).

Thanks for reading

WolfMoon


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